


Dream Machine

by DietMountainnnDew



Series: 1992 and I'm thinking of you [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - 1990s, Angst, Coming of Age, Did I say angst?, Drug Use, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, I honestly don't know what else to tag, I will update tags as I go along, M/M, Mental Instability, Prostitution, Really dark, Self-Destruction, a bunch of sad shit happens, a little sex but not explicit, and like tiny bits of fluff, bokuto and kuroo are still bros, but it's a bit toxic idk, kind of, this is dark tho, this is like a depressing 90s AU i created idk it's sad, um probably no happy ending sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DietMountainnnDew/pseuds/DietMountainnnDew
Summary: I heard a story the other day, about a kid I knew who couldn’t stay awake… Akaashi is a liar. Bokuto is always high. They shouldn't meet, but they do. They shouldn't fall in love. They don't. (Wrong, they kind of do). It's 1992 in a bad corner of the city. Akaashi has one foot out the door and Bokuto needs him to survive.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, implied Bokuto Koutaro/Kuroo Tetsurou (Unrequited), implied: - Relationship
Series: 1992 and I'm thinking of you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022398
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	1. As We Go Up, We Go Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody! So this is my first fan-fic for the Haikyuu fandom and I'm super excited. Even though this fanfiction will probably break your hearts, I don't know, it's breaking mine, sorry. Basically, I've been super inspired by a bunch of 90s indie movies and books I've read, but they are all really dark. I decided to make a depressing 90s AU. This is part of a series. You may have noticed the multitude of characters who make cameo appearances, if they make a cameo appearance the chances are they will have a fan-fic in this series, I have about nine in total planned out. Anyway, this one is Bokuto and Akaashi's story. Also, there are like three OCS who are only here for the purpose of being villains, cause the villains had to be older. I do want to make note of warnings, cause this fic is going to be really dark. Trigger warnings include: suicidal thoughts, self-harm, drug addiction, slight co-dependency, pedophilia/CSA, consensual sex between underage people (i am a minor myself, so I mean I'm not being creepy idk), also underage prostitution/sex work, heavy depression/mental illness. Yeah, this sounds really, really dark and I don't blame you if you cannot handle it, I barely can. But, if you still plan on reading this, I will post specific warnings with each chapter. But just know that the warnings I have posted will be present throughout.

Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life. Not to anyone and not even to himself. There are a few things that he tells himself when he’s trying to fall asleep at night. He tells himself that he is not broken, that he is fine. That it’s good that he can’t feel anything anymore. That it doesn’t matter who or what hurts him because he’s already dead inside. He reminds himself he’s incapable of laughing or crying or showing anything at all and it’s better that way. Yeah, overall he’s doing pretty great. He’s practically fucking invincible. But you have to remember that Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life, not even to himself.

This story starts in a city, it doesn’t matter the name, it could happen anywhere. But it happens here, in this dirty, dark, and rough side of town that holds onto people, that chains them down and keeps them stuck. More specifically this story starts in a shady, rundown club, packed full of bodies, warm and writhing, under the influence of a million things. Akaashi is 16 and dancing on tables, body coated in glitter, hips rolling, green eyes dead and empty. Bokuto Koutaro is 17 and higher than a kite, trying to fight off the bout of manic depression he can feel creeping up on him. One could say they meet by chance. Someone else might even go so far as to call it luck. That would just be plain wrong. Akaashi and Bokuto meeting is far from lucky. In fact, they should probably never meet each other. But they do, here in this club, under flashing neon green and lavender lights. Akaashi, with his pretty dark hair and hooded bedroom eyes, breaks into Bokuto’s drug-addled mind and holds it hostage. He’s going to be talking about Akaashi all night. 

“Those eyes, Kuroo. Come on, look at him.” Bokuto practically screams this and his friend with the permanent bedhead covers his ears and glares.

“He’s underage, idiot.”

Bokuto only laughs and yells, “So am I, idiot.” Kuroo just shrugs and sulks. He is 19 and extremely pessimistic, been on his own for six years, dealing drugs for three. He’s managed to work his way up the ranks and sells everything from weed to the hard stuff. Neither of them says it, but they both know that’s one of the only reasons they’re friends, that and the fact that Kuroo is the only one who’ll deal with Bokuto’s intense mood swings. Even if his way of dealing with them is by plying Bokuto with drugs. Kuroo himself doesn’t partake though, so right now he’s practically sober while Bokuto is out of this world.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Kuroo shakes his head, “He’s busy.” Bokuto follows Kuroo’s gaze and tries to pick out green eyes from a swirling, blurry mess of faces and lights. He finds them, batting their lashes and gazing downwards, playing up their innocence, as their owner grinds up against an older man, a fake smile spreading when money’s pushed into his waistband. There are a few things Akaashi tells himself when rough hands rub up and down his swaying body, pinching and rubbing, shoving cash into his face. He tells himself that he likes it, that he’s getting paid so it’s fine. That it’s good that people want him. That he should be proud of his beauty and his body. He reminds himself he’s incapable of feeling anything when they touch him and it’s better that way. Yeah, overall he’s got a pretty good job. He’s practically living a dream. But you have to remember that Akaashi Keiji has never told the truth in his entire life, not even to himself.

The club’s closing down now and everyone’s leaving. But, Akaashi sticks around, he always does, waiting for someone to ask if they can buy his body for the night. He’ll accept, he always does, ‘cause the money’s nice and he’d rather not go home. No customers tonight, though. He does, however, see the bird boys. He’s seen them around a lot. But, he doesn’t know their names, just knows that the brunette, whose hair resembles a rooster deals, and that the silver-haired owl boy is always fucked up on something. Akaashi doesn’t understand how this kid willingly loses control of his body to a substance, but to each his own he supposes. He also doesn’t understand why owl boy keeps staring at him, amber eyes surprisingly piercing for someone who’s so burnt out.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Bokuto says this again, but he’s whispering now because the club’s basically empty. He stumbles forward.

“No, you’re not,” Kuroo mumbles as he steadies Bokuto, “You can barely walk straight, I’m taking you home. Besides, I think he left.” Kuroo’s wrong about that, though. Akaashi’s outside, by the door. He’s waiting for the bird boys. He figures, because of the way owl boy looked at him, that maybe they’ll be interested in taking him home for the night. It might actually be nice, seeing as both boys are close to his age and, despite the strange hair, are very attractive, he honestly doesn’t care if they pay him. All he wants is to put off going home for as long as he can.

Bokuto trips through the open doorway, nearly falling onto the pavement, and comes face to face with green eyes. The boy is right there, holding onto Bokuto’s arm now. Bokuto opens his mouth, lost for words.

The boy just smiles and leans forward, his voice low and sultry “Hey. My name’s Akaashi. And I was wondering if you and your friend wanted-”

“Come home with me,” This just slips out and Bokuto curses himself for deciding to smoke that third joint earlier. The boy, or Akaashi, as he had just said, furrows his brow for a second, looking confused. _Oh great,_ Bokuto thinks, _I just fucked up._

But then, a smile spreads across Akaashi’s face and he says, “Okay.”

Owl boy is apparently struck dumb by this. Akaashi might find his stupid expression funny if he remembered how to laugh. But, he doesn’t, not really anyway.

“Okay?” Bokuto’s voice lilts up childishly into a question and he curses himself again. He must sound idiotic.

Akaashi nods, “Yeah. I said okay. I’ll go home with you.”

Bokuto tries to stop it, but he can feel a wide, crooked smile spreading across his face. He offers his hand to shake “Great. Well, my name’s Boku-“

Akaashi holds up his hand in protest and cuts owl boy off. He doesn’t know his name yet and he doesn’t want to. It will make it harder to leave come morning.

“I don’t need to know,” is all Akaashi says and he watches the owl boy’s face become twisted with confusion. But the owl boy’s smile doesn’t go away and he doesn’t drop his hand. He actually moves closer.

“But, I want to tell you my name, Akaashi. You told me yours.” He moves his hand closer offering even more, “I’m Bokuto.”

“Alright,” Akaashi says slowly and accepts Bokuto’s hand, “Nice to meet you Bokuto-san”. Bokuto’s hand is warm and calloused. Akaashi thinks that his own hand must be very smooth and cold, he wonders if he feels as dead on the outside as he does on the inside. Bokuto doesn’t seem to think so because he holds Akaashi’s hand tightly and shakes it with exaggeration. His smile grows, and his eyes become wide. Akaashi can see just how blown out his pupils are. The rooster haired boy comes out, just as they break their handshake, and Bokuto twirls around to him, same dopey grin.

“Kuroo!” He yells this, and turns back to Akaashi, as Kuroo comes to stand beside him, “This is Kuroo. Akaashi’s coming home with us.”

“No.” Kuroo says flatly, shaking his head, “Not us. You. I’ll drop you both off at your apartment and then I’m going back to my place.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says and he keeps smiling, but it seems less genuine, “Okay. My dad’s not home anyway. It’s fine.” He still looks hurt though. It’s because Bokuto knows that next morning when he’s sober, he won’t want to do anything except lay in bed and cry and scratch at his arms and legs until they bleed, if he was at Kuroo’s it wouldn’t matter. Kuroo doesn’t care if he sleeps all day and cries all night, eventually, he’ll just give in and help Bokuto get high again. But if Bokuto’s at home, cramped into the tiny apartment with his dad, it’s a different story. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by a pale, cold hand reaching down and grabbing his wrist. 

“Come on Bokuto-San,” Akaashi says, gently tugging on his wrist. “I’ll still come with you.” Bokuto follows the other two to Kuroo’s car, he holds open the back door and lets Akaashi slide in. When he turns to go to the passenger side, Kuroo pushes up against him and presses a bag into his hand.

“Take some of these,” he whispers, gesturing to colorful pills, “They might help.” They won’t, not in the long run, but Bokuto will take them anyway . He takes two a little later, as soon as they get inside his apartment. Akaashi watches him, bottom lip pushed out, expression serious. Bokuto can feel his eyelids drooping, as the familiar warm rush crashes into him and makes his head spin.

“I don’t know if I want to let you do this if you're high.” Akaashi’s voice is still low, but it’s harsher now, not as soft as it was the first time he spoke.

Bokuto rubs his eyes, trying to understand what Akaashi’s saying, “Let me do what?”

Akaashi sighs, running his hand through his hair, “Let you fuck me.” 

Bokuto can’t see straight and his whole body feels heavy, is that what Akaashi thought they were going to do? Was that what Bokuto had intended, when he’d asked Akaashi to come with him? He doesn’t know anymore. He can’t remember that far back. And all he manages to say is a slurred, “What? N-no, I’m not gonna do that.”

Akaashi just raises an eyebrow, otherwise expressionless, “Oh. Did I misread this then? Do you like girls? Because I can pretend. I just really need to stay here tonight.” Emotion. For just a second. One moment of truthfulness in Akaashi’s life. Bokuto doesn’t really notice though, the pills have really kicked in. He just stumbles forward, slurring.

“You can stay ‘Kaashi. Just want to talk to you.” Bokuto nearly falls, but Akaashi catches him, letting Bokuto support himself against his thin frame.

“You’re too high to talk, Bokuto-san. You should go to bed.” And Bokuto sort of leads the way, Akaashi sort of drags him to his tiny room, no bigger than a closet and Bokuto just falls on the bed. He pulls Akaashi down with him, holding tight when Akaashi tries to get up.

“Please” He can hear himself say, “Stay ‘Kaashi.” And Akaashi does. He lets himself lie back down and lets Bokuto wrap his arms around him. Bokuto’s already asleep, breath deep and warm against Akaashi’s skin. Akaashi rarely sleeps and when he does it’s never for long, but now he surprises himself as his own breathing slows and his eyelids droop. He snuggles up into Bokuto’s arms and feels very warm, very safe, and very...loved. _No_ , his mind starts to wake up, _No you did not just think that. Idiot. You aren’t allowed to be loved. You can’t even fall in love. Idiot._ His mind tries to fight off the blanket of sleep, but it loses. _You aren’t talking to him again._ That’s the last thing on his mind as he drifts off. It’s a lie though, of course, it is.

Bokuto wakes up, sometime in the early morning, newly sober and dying for a hit of something, anything. _Screw you, Kuroo. You said those pills would help._ He pushes himself up, his whole body feels weak and shaky and he wants to cry. _You can do this. Nightstand second drawer. You usually have something there._ He fumbles the drawer open and digs around. Empty packets and plastic bags. Nothing. He gets up. Maybe his dad has some pain killers or something. _Bathroom. I can look there._ He trips. And nearly falls. Akaashi is still asleep. Bokuto doesn’t want to wake him up. He pushes into the bathroom and falls against the sink. He opens the cabinet. Empty bottles. Nothing. _No. No. Nothing. I need something. Please._ He can feel his breath growing faster and faster and his eyes tear up. His hands move up his arms and his nails dig in. _Scratch. Bleed. Cry. Repeat._ But he’s not bleeding. Cold, pale hands are on his own, pulling them away.

“No, Bokuto-San.” Akaashi’s voice is low and gentle again, “Don’t do that. You’ll be alright. Come back to bed.” Bokuto follows him. How could he not? It’s strange that this boy he’s only just met brings him such comfort. But he hears a crunch in his pocket when he starts to walk. Reaches in, finds the bag Kuroo gave him. Two pills left. _Perfect._

“You can take them, Bokuto-san. I don’t care.” That’s a lie. Akaashi does care. He knows he should tell Bokuto not too, that’s what a good person would do. But Akaashi isn’t a good person and probably won’t ever be, he’s a liar and he’ll probably never stop lying. But, Bokuto doesn’t know this, so he swallows the pills and sits on the bed waiting for the rush to come. It doesn’t at least, not as quickly as he wants it to. Bokuto starts to cry. Akaashi watches him, leaning back against the wall. Does Bokuto even know he’s here anymore? 

“Akaashi.” There’s his answer, mixed in with sobs and an outstretched pair of arms, “Please ‘Kaashi.” And Akaashi goes to Bokuto, helps him lay back and stretch out. He pulls Bokuto’s head onto his lap and plays with his hair. He doesn’t know what to say. Nobody ever really comforts him anymore and nobody ever really did before, anyway.

“My dad’s coming home tomorrow. I don’t wanna see him.” Bokuto whispers this, his crying having subsided. Akaashi doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet. It doesn’t seem to matter though, Bokuto keeps talking, “I think I’m gonna pass out soon. W-will you still be here when I wake up?”

“Oh.” Akaashi thinks for a moment, “I don’t know. Depends on the time, I’ve got to go home in the morning.”

“But, do you want to?” Bokuto says this slowly, starting to slur again. Akaashi doesn’t know what he’s asking.

“Do I want to?” He whispers and begins to rub circles on Bokuto’s back. Bokuto presses into his touch.

“Do you wanna go home?” Bokuto says, barely audible now.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I do.” That’s a lie, of course, it is. But, Bokuto’s got enough problems and Akaashi doesn’t want to trouble him any more, doesn’t want Bokuto to know that he’s scared of going home, that it’s never been a home to him, always just been a waking nightmare. And Bokuto is too far gone anyway, he rolls over and stares up, amber eyes rolling back under drooping lids.

“I’m scared, ‘Kaashi”

“Why, Bokuto-san?”

“I’m scared I won’t remember you when I wake up.” Akaashi doesn’t get to respond because Bokuto’s eyes close and his breathing gets shallow. Akaashi gently moves his head and lays down beside him. He tries to fall asleep again. It’s harder this time.


	2. Don't go home (until you can't hear yourself think about it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so I already had this chapter finished, so I thought I might as well post it now. Bokuto isn't really in this chapter, it's more just focusing on Akaashi and his home life. Also, there are like a ton of cameos, but again I don't say the characters' names, (If you think I'm talking about a character, I probably am). Also, there are a lot of trigger warnings in this chapter. I put them at the bottom, so if you have triggers scroll down and read those first.

When the sun comes through the window, he gives up. Bokuto is still passed out, hasn’t even moved. Akaashi wonders for a second if maybe Bokuto isn’t going to wake up, maybe he overdosed or something. Akaashi pretends that he wouldn’t care if that was true. That’s a lie. He would. And he hates himself for it. He’ll go home now and forget about Bokuto. It’s what he has to do. But before that, he’s got to do one thing. He quietly moves into the bathroom and only has to look around for a minute before he finds what he needs. 

A silver razor on the windowsill, sharp and shiny. It’s disgusting, cutting himself up with somebody else’s, but at this point, he doesn’t care. He brings the razor to his thigh and cuts a thin line. Then another on the opposite thigh. Watches the blood run down, a reminder to himself to never let his guard down like this again. One more line. It doesn’t hurt. It feels kind of good. But, that’s a lie. Of course, it is. There’s some bandages in the cabinet and he covers the fresh cuts. Fixes his clothes, and creeps into the kitchen. He’s putting on his shoes and grabbing his bag when the front door bursts open.

“Koutaro! You better wake yourself the fuck up, you good for nothing-” The gigantic man cuts himself off when he sees Akaashi, “And who the hell are you?”

“I’m going,” Akaashi says, pushing past him and slamming the door. As he runs down the stairway he hears the guy start yelling again and then a crash. He leaves the apartment building and doesn’t look back. He doesn’t care what happens to Bokuto. That’s a lie, but he’ll just keep pretending it’s not. The walk to his own building doesn’t take as long as he wanted. He takes his time punching in the code and drags his feet up the worn down stairs, running his hand against the paint-chipped walls. He does this all the way down the hall, stopping at apartment 2d, and digging around for the key, even though the door barely locks, cause somebody kicked it down once. He can’t find his key, but it doesn’t matter, because he can hear the lock being unbolted from the other side. The door swings open, slow, and lazy. A laugh, cold black eyes. Unbuttoned shirt, boxers. Uncle. His uncle. Not biologically, just some guy who was always hanging around his mother’s. Who happened to be there when she finally took too much heroin. The only person who cared about him, or so Uncle liked to say.

“So you’ve finally come home, Keiji.” Said through a smile, laced with venom. 

“It was just two nights. And stop calling me that.” Akaashi says as he pushes in. The door closes, a big, rough hand grabs his wrist and pushes him against it. A heavy body pushes up against his. A warm breathy voice in his ear.

“Stop calling you what...Keiji.” Akaashi tries to push him off, but Uncle just moves closer. “Why would I be so impersonal when we know each other so, so well? Don’t we, Keiji?”

_ Keiji. Keiji, don’t cry. You’re ten. You’re a big boy, Keiji. Uncle’s got you now. Your mama left you and I’ve got you now, Keiji. Don’t worry, I’m a lot of fun and I can be nice if you’re nice to me. _

Akaashi pushes back with strength. “Just fuck off, old man.” He readjusts his shirt and moves forward. Well, almost. Big hands catch him again and pin him back. He can try to fight, but he knows they’ll win. They always do. 

“Now, now sweetie. I’m not done with you yet. You got my money?”

Akaashi, juts out his chin. “And what if I don’t, Uncle?” One big hand slaps across his face. It doesn’t hurt (that’s a lie). The other hand digs around in his bag, until it finds what it’s looking for, Akaashi’s weekend earnings.

“Ha.” Uncle says, waving the cash in his face, “For someone who lies all the time, you’re pretty bad at it,” Uncle lets Akaashi go, “And Ito’s in the kitchen. You should go say hi, he’s missed you.”

_ Ito. So Uncle’s been busy this weekend. Filming no doubt.  _ Akaashi rubs his cheek and walks to the kitchen, Uncle close behind. Ito is sitting, tilted back in a chair, cigarette burning, newspaper in hand, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, it’s not flattering. 

“Keiji! Good to see you, baby. Come give me a hug.” Ito puts down the newspaper and opens his arms. Uncle pushes Akaashi forward. Akaashi bends down and lets Ito pull him against his chest. Instead of just hugging him, Ito grabs Akaashi’s face and presses his lips against Akaashi, kissing him roughly. Akaashi pulls away, glaring, as he wipes his mouth.

“Fuck you, Ito.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t be so cruel, Keiji. I just forgot what you tasted like. It’s too bad you weren’t here this weekend, me and your uncle had a lot of fun.”

“Oh yeah?” Akaashi says, his mouth drawing up into a sarcastic smirk, “What? Did you two old men jerk each other off?”

“Very funny,” Uncle says, as Ito laughs. It’s not. Akaashi knows their tastes run much younger. He wishes he didn’t but he does. “We used your bedroom, though, Keiji. Hope you don’t mind.”  _ Great. Just what I need.  _ Akaashi peers through the small living room, eyes locking onto his closed bedroom door.

“Is he still in there?”

Uncle follows his gaze and nods, “Yeah. Kid’s pretty out of it. He wouldn’t stop crying, Ito had to relax him.”

“I kind of need to get in my room”

Ito laughs, “Just ignore him, he’s drugged up. He won’t make a noise.” Akaashi rolls his eyes. He heads towards his room, figuring he can just grab a change of clothes and then leave until everyone else is gone. He pushes open the door, wrinkling his nose. The air is heavy and smells like sex, the kind that won’t wash off your skin, no matter how hard you try. The room isn’t a pretty sight. Cheap cameras still set up, shades are drawn. Sure enough, a kid lies on the bed completely naked and ravaged. He can’t be more than 14, his body is small and covered in freckles, deep greenish hair matted and wet with cum. 

“Pretty, huh?” Akaashi whirls around. Uncle’s in the doorway.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Akaashi spits this out, motioning to the bruises and welts that mar the thin body and the blood and cum that stains the sheets between the kid’s legs, he doesn’t need to ask though. He knows. Too well.

“Relax, Keiji. It’s nothing worse than what his own father does to him. If anything this was a goddamn vacation for him.”

“You’re sick, Uncle.”

“Whatever you say, Keiji. Let me have the room for a second. I’ve got to clean him up and get him home.” Uncle pushes Akaashi out. He starts to close the door, but, pauses for a second, “Oh and Keiji, do me a favor and let Ito fuck you before you run off again.” And Akaashi does. He lets Ito smack him around and push him face down onto the dirty bed sheets. He lets Ito thrust into him, hard and rough and he doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t cry. He just pretends that he’s dead. And he really starts to feel like he is. 

When Ito’s finally gone, Akaashi drags himself to the bathroom. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror. He can’t.  _ Stupid. Worthless. Whore. That’s all you’re really good for isn’t it?  _ He takes his razor and cuts a cross into his hip, cause Ito kept calling him an angel.  _ I’m fine,  _ he thinks,  _ I’m fine. _ But, you have to remember Akaashi has never told the truth in his life. He presses a towel to the cuts, but the bleeding doesn’t stop, so he just gives up. He goes to his room. He still calls it his room even though he can’t remember the last time he actually slept in it. Akaashi pulls open the blinds, wincing at the sunlight and opens the window. Now for the routine he’s all too familiar with. Sheets first, stripped off and wrapped up in a ball. He’ll burn them in the alleyway later. Pillowcases next. Scrub the floors for any last traces. Fight off the urge to scream and smash the cameras. When Akaashi’s done he flops down on the floor. His body aches from both Ito’s abuse as well as his own. He doesn’t want to move, but he knows he should be packing his bag, he isn’t going to come back for a while. Not if he can help it. 

This is the routine he and Uncle have fallen into. Akaashi’s a little too old for Uncle now, so he mostly leaves him alone. Uncle lets him disappear for days at a time, with the condition that Akaashi comes home sometimes, gives him money, and films himself or lets one of Uncle’s friends fuck him. Akaashi’s done most of these already, but if he leaves before Uncle gets back he won’t have to do anything else. But, as luck would have it, Uncle’s home again. He doesn’t come to bother Akaashi, though. Akaashi can hear him moving around in the kitchen then settling down in the small living room, the all too familiar whirring of the VHS, as a tape is popped in. Akaashi tries to ignore it. He gathers some clean clothes from a drawer and- fuck- he left his bag in the kitchen. Quietly he opens the door and tries to tiptoe past the couch. Uncle’s hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

“Sit with me for a minute, Keiji. It’s been so long since we watched TV together.” Akaashi complies like he always does. He turns his eyes to the TV and pretends not to notice the obvious bulge in Uncle’s pants, which is probably from the porno that he’s watching. It’s cheaply filmed, obviously homemade, much like the ones Uncle and his friends make. The sight is pretty horrific, or it would be if Akaashi wasn’t so desensitized to this stuff. On screen, a lean long legged boy stretches out on a bed, he has shiny silver hair and big green eyes. Two big men, who look European come into frame. It’s obvious to Akaashi what’s about to happen, but the kid on screen seems oblivious. He smiles at the camera like he’s a movie star. Akaashi thinks the kid looks dumb. Not in an ugly way. Pretty, but not smart enough to realize that there might be a better way to live. The two men grab onto the kid speaking a language that isn’t Japanese, something thick and deep. Akaashi looks away.

“They’re Russian,” Uncle says, Akaashi doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really care, Uncle keeps talking, “That kid’s 15. Real innocent. Those eyes, that smile. Reminds me of you, Keiji.”

“Stop.” Akaashi says and he squeezes his eyes shut, digging his nails into his palms.

Uncle doesn’t listen, “Reminds me of you when you were ten years old and so pure, so needy for me.” Uncle’s hand snakes up Akaashi’s throat, fingers tracing over his lips, nearly in his mouth.

“Stop.” Akaashi says again. But, then Uncle’s fingers slip into his mouth and make him choke and gag. Uncle shoves them farther watching Akaashi struggle and then pulls them out quickly, leaving him coughing.

“Go run off again if you want to,” Uncle says, laughing and waving his hand, “Go and crawl down whatever hole you go into to do your whoring. Come back when you need a good fuck.” Akaashi doesn’t wait. He can feel tears burning his eyes, tears that will never fall, because he doesn’t know how to cry anymore. He slips on his shoes, grabs his bag and runs out the door. He runs and runs and runs. His brain doesn’t know where he’s going, but his body seems to. It stops him outside an apartment building.  _ Oh yeah,  _ he thinks,  _ that owl boy, Bokuto-san. Well, hey maybe he’s home. Maybe he’s not, it doesn’t matter. He was annoying anyway. _ That’s a lie. Of course, it is. But, he waits until somebody is coming out and then slips in and goes up the stairs. He knocks on the door. No answer. He’s about to leave, but he hears it unlocking. 

“You again.” It’s not Bokuto. It’s that huge guy. Probably Bokuto’s dad.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says, “Me again. Is Bokuto here?”

The guy laughs, “Of course not. That fag is always running away.” Akaashi winces at the guy’s words. No wonder Bokuto didn’t want to see his dad again.

“Okay.” Akaashi says and he backs up, “Do you know where he might be?”

“Yeah. He’s probably at that fag of a drug dealer’s.”  _ God,  _ Akaashi thinks,  _ is that the only word he knows?  _ “Can’t tell you where that is though, ask somebody who cares.”

“Sure.” Akaashi nods and goes to leave, but something comes over him, “Oh, and sir,” he says and spins back around, Bokuto’s dad just looks at him angrily. Akaashi takes a step closer and says, “Go fuck yourself.” Bokuto’s dad pulls back, slaps him across the face, and slams the door. Akaashi leaves smiling. It didn’t hurt. That’s a lie, a bruise is already forming. He walks away slowly. Now he really doesn’t have anywhere to go. He supposes he could stop by the club, but he doesn’t have a shift tonight, which means he’s not supposed to hang around, something about taking clients from the kids who do have shifts. He walks by anyway, just 'cause it’s right there. There’s two kids outside, oversized jackets covering their tiny little dancing outfits. Akaashi watches them, he doesn’t know their names, just knows that they’re sort of new and they usually perform together, which is funny cause they sort of look alike. They both are slim with ash blonde hair and are sharing a cigarette between each other.  _ No,  _ Akaashi realizes as the smoke drifts toward him,  _ It’s a joint. _ And then,  _ Maybe they know where Kuroo lives.  _ He’s about to say something, but one of the kids, this one with black tips in his hair, notices him.

“Do you need something?” The kid says, light glinting off a cross on a silver chain as he leans towards Akaashi, “It’s not polite to stare.” 

“Don’t be mean,” says the other one, his voice is soft and sweet and barely audible, he gives Akaashi a smile that seems genuine. He has a beauty mark under one eye, that crinkles up when he does this. “Are you looking for someone?”

“I’m trying to find out where this kid lives, um, I thought maybe you guys knew him, he’s got crazy hair, his name’s ah-“

“Kuroo.” The first kid says. “He lives in a squat one street over, big, abandoned. You won’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Akaashi says and starts walking. He turns back and watches as the boys shed their coats and go inside. He walks through the alley sidestepping trash and slumped over people, who must have nowhere else to go. Darkness falls, but he still finds the place. It sticks out like a sore thumb, a big rundown building, filled with lights and blaring music. There are some people loitering around outside and they just nod at him in acknowledgment. The doors are open slightly and he just pushes in. The place is filled with smoke and people, mostly teenagers laying around. A skinhead and a kid with a bleached mohawk are passed out on the couch, either sleeping or black-out drunk. Probably drunk from the number of bottles on the floor. A tiny orange-haired teen is lying next to a black-haired kid, their eyes are bugged out and rolling, probably on acid or something. Akaashi ends up walking straight into Kuroo. 

“Oh,” Kuroo says, clearly surprised to see him, “You’re that kid from the other night. You looking for Bokuto?”

“No. I mean I don’t know. Not really. I just need a place to stay.” Akaashi feels like an idiot. Kuroo doesn’t seem to care though.

“I mean you’re welcome to stay here. I mean anybody really is. Bokuto is here though. And he’s sober for once, so if you want to see him, now's probably best.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll talk to him now.”

“Great,” Kuroo says, turning on his heel, “Follow me.” Akaashi does. He walks quickly, trying to keep up, weaving, and stepping over people. They walk up the stairs, which feel like they could give way at any moment. At the top of the stairs, there’s another big room. Kuroo tells Akaashi to wait and dashes off. This room has a TV, old and worn out, but still working. It’s playing what looks to be yet another cheap porn video. Only two kids are in the room, one with light pink hair and one with dark curly hair, they’re propped up like they’re watching the TV, but to Akaashi they seem pretty strung out. Junkies, by the looks of it, with the track marks on their arms and the blackened spoon between them. They don’t notice Akaashi. Akaashi watches the TV. On-screen a pretty teenage boy is getting really roughed up. It’s obviously staged cause there is a set and some stupid costumes. The camera cuts in close to the boy’s face, big brown eyes wet with tears, fluffy brown hair matted and soaked.  _ Weird.  _ Akaashi thinks  _ I know that kid. Ito used to bring him over a lot. He was really loud and annoying and had a stupid nickname for me. So this is where he is now. That’s cool. I don’t care.  _ That’s a lie. Of course, it is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings:  
> Suicidal thoughts, self-harm/cutting, self-deprecation, implied/referenced CSA and child pornography, referenced non-consensual drug use and non-consensual sex, drug addiction. I think that’s it.  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Again thank you for reading, please leave kudos and comments, I'd love some feedback.


	3. I get sick when I get stoned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! Like the last chapter, trigger warnings are at the bottom, so if you need to make sure to check those out first. Otherwise, enjoy, I guess, this chapter isn't super sad, but idk.

Bokuto is curled up on a mattress. The room is dark, pitch black. A light flicks on in the hallway, then the room lights up. Bokuto flinches. The sheets are pulled off of him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

“Get up.”  _ Kuroo.  _ Bokuto opens his eyes and slowly sits up. He looks up at Kuroo, face red and puffy, tear tracks drying on his skin.  _ Good. He’s got something to make me feel numb. _

Bokuto smiles, “What’d you bring me?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, “A friend. He’s waiting in the other room. You know, that kid from the club, Akaashi, or something.”

“ ‘Kaashi’s here? He came to see me?”

“No. I mean yeah, he’s here, but he didn’t come to see you. He said he needed a place to stay. I said you were here if he wanted to see you and he said okay.” Bokuto jumps to his feet, reaching for a pair of jeans. He pulls them on and stands back.

“How do I look?”

Kuroo smiles, “Like a million bucks.” Bokuto grins back, though he knows it’s a lie. He’s been crying for hours, not to mention he’s all banged up from his dear old dad kicking and punching him until he woke up. He doesn’t really remember much from the night before. But, he knows that he doesn’t want Akaashi to see him like that again. 

“Just give me a second.” Kuroo nods and leaves the room. Bokuto leans out the window and screams, “Fuck you world!” He pretends it makes him feel better. It doesn’t.

Akaashi is still waiting. He’s staring at the ceiling since the tape started getting really awful and he can’t look at that kid without getting flashbacks. The junkies were making out, but now the dark-haired one’s asleep or maybe dead, Akaashi can’t tell. The pink-haired one is staring at him, holding the other kid in his lap and humming a song. It’s kind of freaky. His eyes drift back up to the ceiling and he closes them.

“Hey, hey, hey, ‘Kaashi!” His eyes fly open. Bokuto’s coming towards him with open arms, ripped jeans unbuttoned, flanneled shirt open and flapping, “You remembered me!”

“Yeah.” Akaashi says, standing up, “Yeah. I did.” Bokuto looks like he’s been through hell. Red-faced, dark circles, bruises covering his torso. But, Akaashi knows he himself doesn’t look any better. He forces himself to smile, “How are you Bokuto-san?”

“I’m great,” Bokuto lies through his smile, Akaashi can tell. When Bokuto asks him the same question he says the same thing and lies through his smile. Bokuto can’t tell, just turns his attention to the junkies for a second.

“Beat it.” He says to the pink-haired kid, it’s gruff, but there’s no malice in his voice. The pink-haired kid holds the other junky tighter and keeps humming. Bokuto seems like he’s about to get mad, Akaashi grabs his arm.

“Come on Bokuto-san, let’s go somewhere else.”

“Okay,” Bokuto says, slipping his arm around Akaashi’s waist, “Good idea.” As they walk away, the junky starts to wail. They go downstairs, sidestepping the same people, except now everyone’s either passed out or making out. It’s weird. At least, to Akaashi, Bokuto’s used to it. He keeps his head down, looking to see if anybody’s left out drugs that he can take. Bokuto sees a bag of coke poking out from someone’s pocket and thinks about taking it. But, then he thinks  _ no better not _ . Instead, he snatches two joints from a coffee table and shoves them in his pocket. He takes Akaashi’s hand in his. Akaashi tenses for a moment, but doesn’t pull away. Bokuto thinks Akaashi’s hand is very cold. He doesn’t say anything though, just leads him to an open window and helps him climb through. They’re standing on the fire escape.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, voice barely above a whisper, “Where are we going?”

“The roof” is all Bokuto says and takes Akaashi’s hand again. It doesn’t take them long to get up there. When they do, Bokuto lets go of Akaashi’s hand. He raises his arms in the air and spins around, inhaling deeply. He drops his arms and stares up at the sky, then he frowns.

“Sorry, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, still frowning, “There aren’t any stars tonight.” Akaashi looks up. Bokuto’s right. The sky is cloudy and dark. 

“Oh. That’s too bad,” is all Akaashi can think to say. It’s a lie though. He’s actually happy. He hates the stars. They bring back awful memories.  _ Oi, Keiji. Look at the stars. I brought you out here cause I want you to look at the stars while we have fun. Can you do that, can you look at the stars for Uncle?  _ Something pokes Akaashi’s hand bringing him back. He looks down. It’s a joint, Bokuto’s holding it out to him. Bokuto’s already lit one for himself. Akaashi takes it, rests it between his lips, and leans down letting Bokuto light it. He takes a drag, coughing as he blows it out. He hasn’t done this much. Bokuto laughs. Then throws himself backward, flopping onto his back. 

“Ow,” He yells. Akaashi sits down next to him.

“Well, Bokuto-san, it’s cement. What did you expect?” Bokuto just grabs Akaashi’s shirt and pulls him close. They press up against each other, in silence. They look up at the sky and wait for the weed to work its magic. It hits Bokuto first. The warm flow takes over his brain and spins it around. A thought surfaces in his mind. He thinks it’s really profound.  _ Hey, why not tell Akaashi?  _

“ ‘Kaashi do you ever feel like really, really wild? Like you want to just take off all your clothes and jump out of your skin and just kick and scream and run around, you know?” Bokuto thinks he must sound really smart. He looks at Akaashi, expecting him to be blown away. Akaashi looks back at Bokuto and laughs. Really laughs. He surprises himself. Bokuto thinks it sounds pretty.

“Bokuto-san, you’re crazy.” and then the warm flow gets to Akaashi and he says, “Let’s do it.”

“Oi ‘Kaashi. You’ve got the best ideas.” Bokuto says this as he jumps up, offering his hand to Akaashi.

Akaashi laughs again and lets Bokuto pull him up, “It was your idea Bokuto-san.”

“Well, I have the best ideas then.” Bokuto pulls his flannel shirt off and whirls it around in the air letting out a whoop. He loses his grip on it and it flys out of his hand and right over the edge. 

“Oops,” Bokuto says with a giggle, dangling his head precariously off the ledge. Akaashi joins him and they watch as the flannel spirals down and lands on one of the loiterers' heads, followed by a yell of, “Hey! What the fuck?” Akaashi pulls back. If he wasn’t high right now, he might have told Bokuto to stop, but instead, he pulls his own shirt over his head and drops it off the building. And surprises himself by laughing, again.

“Take that” he yells, giggling, and then falls back taking Bokuto down with him. They lie on their backs again for a minute, but then Bokuto’s pushing himself up and pulling off his jeans. Hurls those over the edge and this time is met with a “Cut it out assholes!” Bokuto jumps on the ledge, boxers fluttering loosely in the wind, and pumps his fist in the air.

“I’m the king of the night.” Bokuto declares this, as Akaashi is wrestling with his pants, trying to follow Bokuto’s example. He gets them off and pulls himself up on the ledge just as Bokuto turns to him, saying, “And you, Akaashi are my queen.” Akaashi’s about to let his pants fall on the angry loiterers below, but Bokuto frowns suddenly grabbing his wrist. 

“What?” Akaashi says, eyes wide with confusion. Bokuto steps backward onto solid ground, Akaashi doesn’t follow suit, he stays elevated on the ledge so that he’s taller than Bokuto now, his skin pale and glowing under the tiny bit of moonlight. Bokuto’s eyes fall to Akaashi’s left hip, where the waistband of his boxers has ridden down a bit.

“Oi ‘Kaashi,” He whispers, hand reaching out, though he pulls it away when Akaashi flinches, “You’re bleeding.” Akaashi doesn’t say anything and then Bokuto looks up and sees the bruise on Akaashi’s face and the welts and bite marks that cover his chest and wrap around to his back. And then his gaze moves down to the blood, that trails down Akaashi’s side, from the fresh cut on his hip. He sees the newly scabbed cuts on both of Akaashi’s thighs that criss-cross over a web of old ones.  _ So many… _

“Scars,” Bokuto says out loud. Akaashi lets out a strange noise, something between a gasp and a whimper. It’s then that Bokuto realizes Akaashi is trembling.

He looks down at Bokuto, green eyes wide and voice shaky, “Yes, Bokuto-san. Scars.” Bokuto gently brings his hand to Akaashi’s right thigh, fingers hovering over the skin.

“God, ‘Kaashi,” He breathes this out, fingers tracing over a raised pink line, “This is-”

“No!” It comes out strangled and broken. Akaashi’s trying to steady his breathing, “Please Bokuto-san, don’t say they’re ugly. Don’t say you hate them. That’s what they all say. Please don’t say it too.” Akaashi falls forward then, pressing up against Bokuto’s chest. Bokuto freezes for a second unsure of what to say. He doesn’t know who Akaashi is talking about and he’s too high now to care.

He pulls Akaashi close and says, “I don’t hate them ‘Kaashi. They’re a part of you. And I like you. So I like them. They’re not ugly. They don’t make you ugly.” And then all of a sudden, Akaashi’s lips are pressed against Bokuto’s. Akaashi doesn’t know why he does it. He never kisses people, not unless they force him. But he doesn’t give it too much thought because Bokuto’s kissing him back and it’s unlike any kiss he’s ever had. It’s a little bit awkward, a little bit of teeth clacking, and precarious hand placements. But, it’s also sweet and gentle and when they pull apart, Akaashi’s smiling, really smiling.

Bokuto’s smiling too, he giggles and says, “Was that your first kiss ‘Kaashi?”

“Yes.” Akaashi hears himself saying this. It’s a lie. He knows it is. But it feels like the right thing to say because it feels like the truth. “Yes,” He says again, slower and more drawn out. “Yes, Bokuto-san do it again.” And he does. This time the kiss is more passionate and they sink to the ground. Akaashi tilts his head back, letting Bokuto’s lips trace down his neck. He doesn’t care that his back is pressed up against the hard concrete, he doesn’t feel it anyway. Bokuto’s hands feel nice against his skin and Akaashi likes the way he can feel Bokuto’s muscles rippling. He feels Bokuto’s hard-on pressing into his thigh as Bokuto ruts against him. Akaashi presses his own hard-on against Bokuto and does the same thing. Bokuto’s mouth trails up to Akaashi’s ear.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes,” Akaashi whispers, not letting Bokuto finish. It surprises him because for once he actually means what he’s saying. He does want to.

“Okay,” Bokuto whispers back, and then “Bed.” Bokuto pulls Akaashi up and the two of them walk on shaky legs to the fire escape. Bokuto climbs into a second-floor window and helps Akaashi in. It’s a dark and basically empty room, save for a fairly big mattress and some sheets, as well as a heap of things that must belong to Bokuto. Akaashi falls backwards onto the bed, pulling Bokuto down on top of him.

“Is this your first time, ‘Kaashi?” Akaashi isn’t sure if Bokuto actually says this, or if it’s just the weed playing tricks on him. He just answers in his head.  _ Yes. Yes, Bokuto-san it is.  _ It’s a lie again, but in this moment it also feels true. The sex is unlike anything Akaashi’s experienced before. Bokuto is sweet and gentle. He takes his time opening Akaashi up and he uses a condom. He speeds up when Akaashi asks him to and he slows down when Akaashi asks him to. He makes sure Akaashi feels good. But, when they’re done he sort of ruins it.

“I think I love you Akaashi.” Bokuto’s half asleep and out of it. Akaashi wishes he didn’t say that, cause what the hell is he supposed to say back? He doesn’t know what love is.  _ Is it easy for you to fall in love, Bokuto-san? You don’t even know me. I can’t say it back, that would be a lie.  _ But, Akaashi doesn’t stop to think that that last thought in itself might end up being a lie. He isn’t in love with Bokuto, he won’t fall in love with Bokuto, he can’t. But, he cuddles into Bokuto’s arms and falls asleep. 

_ Stars cloud his vision and burn his skin. There are beasts all around him. Vicious monsters disguised in human form. Except these monsters are not hiding under his bed, they are in it with him. They are on top of him and they are inside of him, tearing his body and pulling his hair, forcing him to look into a dark lens and a blinking red light. And it hurts, everything hurts so bad. And he’s begging, he’s screaming. But, they just get off on that. _

“Stop!” He screams, “Please, stop. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. Please.” And then his cries dissolve into wails and screams. Akaashi’s awake now, but the dream has taken over his brain and he can’t tell the difference. He still feels everything and he still sees them. They don’t go away when he shuts his eyes and they don’t go away when he opens them again. He kicks his legs and claws at the sheets, shutting his eyes tight and writhing, trying anything, everything to get away. And then all of a sudden his eyes fly open, his breathing is fast and heavy, and they’re gone. The room is silent except for the quiet drone of Bokuto breathing and some music quietly straining in from another room. Akaashi looks down at his hands, shaking and trembling, and then looks at Bokuto sleeping soundly, with a hint of a smile on his lips. A wave of guilt washes over Akaashi. He decides then that he’s never going to be good enough for Bokuto. He is tainted. And now he’s dirtied Bokuto by letting him touch him. 

He needs his bag, but he left it in that big room. He leaves the bedroom quietly and weaves his way through the dark hallway, shaking like a leaf, mind racing. The room isn’t hard to find. The first thing he notices is that the junkies are still there. The pink-haired one’s still up, still rocking the other kid and still humming. Akaashi grabs his bag and unzips it, digging around until his fingers meet something sharp. He lets his hand close around it and pulls out his razor. He cuts more lines into his thighs. Each one oozes blood and seems to say  _ dirty whore, unloveable slut.  _ Akaashi walks back to the bedroom and gets back into bed, not caring that he’s still bleeding. As he closes his eyes he can still hear the junky kid’s humming through the walls. It’s almost like he’s taunting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: underage drug use, non-explicit consensual sex between two underage people, self-harm/cutting, implied/referenced CSA


	4. I know you think I'm here (but I'm not really there)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically, this whole thing was supposed to be a one-shot, but it turned out to be too long and I decided to divide into multiple chapters, which is why each chapter like is sort of directly continuing, idk if that even makes sense. I put trigger warnings at the bottom again.

Bokuto wakes up to a pounding headache and an empty bed. The shades are pulled and he has no clue what time it is. When his eyes adjust and he’s more awake, he sees Akaashi, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, combing through his hair in the cracked mirror on the wall. He smiles, remembering bits and pieces of the night before.

“Where’re you going ‘Kaashi?” His voice comes out all quiet and jumbled. Akaashi turns around and gives him a small smile.

“It’s almost seven o’clock, Bokuto-san.”

“In the morning?” Akaashi’s smile grows and he shakes his head.

“At night, Bokuto-san. We slept all day. I have to go to work.”

“Oh.” Bokuto says, pushing off the sheets and sitting up, “Can I come?” Akaashi laughs, softly.

“Not now. But, you can come around later if you want. I finish at 11, but if you come a little earlier, I’ll give you a free dance.” Bokuto’s eyes grow wide. Akaashi winks and sways his hips. Bokuto lets out a low whistle and leans back against the pillows, it’s then that he sees the blood staining the sheets.

“Akaashi?” 

“Hm?” Akaashi’s turned back to the mirror, and he spins back, tilting his head sweetly. He follows Bokuto’s eyes to the stain on the bed and laughs, “Oh that. That’s nothing to worry about Bokuto-san. Sometimes I get nosebleeds when I sleep. That’s all it is.”

“Okay.” Bokuto believes him. Why shouldn’t he? “I’ll see you later then. And I want that dance.”

Akaashi smiles and slowly walks over to the bed, leaning down over Bokuto. He presses his lips to Bokuto’s forehead and traces his finger across Bokuto’s lips.

“Don’t worry, Bokuto-san. You’ll get it.” Akaashi grabs his jacket and bag and leaves, making sure to keep his walk slow and sensual. He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this. Isn’t this how Uncle would want him to act?  _ Such a slut, Keiji. Such a good little slut for Uncle.  _ Akaashi’s lip starts to bleed. He hadn’t even realized he was biting it.  _ Well,  _ he thinks,  _ I guess it's what I was meant to be all along.  _

Bokuto flops back down once Akaashi’s gone. Just because he’s been asleep all day doesn’t mean he’s getting up. This is his routine after all. He doesn’t work. He doesn’t have to. He can get whatever he needs by shoplifting or he can borrow money from Kuroo. Besides he doesn’t have to pay for drugs, Kuroo will just give them to him. Speaking of which, he might as well take some uppers, cause that’s the only way he’ll have enough energy to get up. He digs through a nearby pile of junk, looking for a plastic baggie. He gets to the bottom and doesn’t find it. Bokuto sits back, huffing.

“Looking for this?” Bokuto whirls around to the door. Kuroo’s there, smirking like always, dangling a plastic baggie filled with all sorts of pills and powders. He saunters to the bed and flops down next to him, obviously uncaring that Bokuto is completely naked. They’ve messed around before, so it doesn’t bother Bokuto either. He reaches for the bag, but Kuroo pulls it away.

“Come on Kurrrooo,” He whines this, dragging out Kuroo’s name, “Don’t tease me.”

“You really can’t be sober tonight, Bo?” Both know the answer, so before Bokuto says anything Kuroo opens the bag, “What do you want?”

“Hmm,” Bokuto taps a finger to his chin, “Is that Adderall? I’ll have some of that and a line of coke.”

“No coke. I’ll give you the Adderall though.” And Kuroo does just that, reaches into his bag of treats, and produces the pills, watching as Bokuto swallows a couple dry, shaking his head when they’re offered to him. Bokuto knows Kuroo doesn’t do drugs, not anymore, but he always offers. He lies back down staring up at the ceiling, and Kuroo does the same. They stay in silence for a minute, a comfortable silence. Kuroo is the one to break it. 

“Have fun last night?” It’s less of a question and more of an observation, but Bokuto answers anyway.

“Yeah. ‘Kaashi’s really sweet. We got like totally stoned on the roof and fooled around. Then we fucked. He’s so hot.” Bokuto turns to Kuroo as he says this, smiling wide and crooked. 

“Isn’t he kind of fucked up though?” Kuroo says this lazily like it’s a fact. There’s a hint of something in his voice, maybe concern, maybe jealousy. “He seems totally miserable to me.”

“You’ve only talked to him like once, Kuroo.”

“You’ve only known him for two days, Bo.”

“Whatever, we had a great time last night. He laughed. He’s so pretty when he laughs. And he’s gonna be staying here and oh god,” Bokuto cuts himself off, realization dawning, “I think I told him I loved him.”

Kuroo jerks up suddenly, something clouding in his eyes, “Do you?”

Bokuto thinks for a moment, well thinks the best he can. “You know what? I think I do.” 

Bokuto doesn’t notice the way Kuroo’s face falls as he says, “Just don’t get your heartbroken.”

“Heh, yeah.” Silence falls again. Bokuto rolls off the bed and pulls on a clean pair of boxers, then a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Where are you going, Bo?”

“I’m going to that club later, but I was thinking of going to Triple X first. I could kill some time there and maybe steal a magazine or something.” Triple X being the porn shop down the street. Most of the time Bokuto, Kuroo, and some other guys from the squat loiter around in there, looking at the magazines and videos, watching whatever tapes are playing. They never really buy anything, but the people working there never really care. If they bring some weed or some pills, they can get into the back room which has all the really weird tapes, mostly freaky homemade stuff, that probably isn’t legal. 

“Triple X, huh. Take this.” Kuroo tosses him a bag of weed, “Get me one of those weird ones. A murder one, like the one where they bury that kid alive.”

Bokuto catches the weed and gives Kuroo a smile, “Didn’t know you were into that stuff.” Kuroo doesn’t say anything. Bokuto grabs his jacket, shoving the weed into his pocket, and leaves. He knows why Kuroo wants the tape, knows that it’s because of that pudding haired kid who Bokuto never really got to know. It’s Kuroo’s weird way of honoring his memory or something. Bokuto doesn’t really care. 

He gets to the store really quickly. He doesn’t even remember walking there. Maybe he teleported. This is funny to him and he laughs to himself as he pushes open the door. He expects to see the usual kid who works at the counter, the one with spiky hair and a brutish build, or the older guy who’s name is Ito or something. Instead, he’s greeted by an unfamiliar face, a tall blonde kid with glasses. He’s leaning back, chewing bubblegum, and flipping through a manga. He doesn’t bother to look up at Bokuto. Bokuto leans onto the counter.

“Oya? I’ve never seen you here before.” The kid looks up at Bokuto with a blank and annoyed expression. He closes the manga and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. I just started. Do you need something?” It occurs to Bokuto that the kid appears to be pretty young, younger than himself probably.

“Are you even old enough to work here?” Bokuto laughs when he says this, but the kid still looks utterly bored.

The kid sighs rolls his eyes again, and says flatly, “No. But you’re not old enough to be here, so let’s call it even.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen in mock pain, “You wound me,” He then reaches into his pocket and slides the bag of weed across the counter, “One ticket to freak land.”

The kid makes a noise, maybe almost a laugh. He doesn’t take the bag right away, though, just says, “I would say give it to Ito, but he’s taking a call in the office or something. So I guess I can let you in.” He takes the key to the backroom and throws the weed into a drawer. He pushes the door open, holding it for Bokuto. He follows Bokuto in, muttering something like “Ito says we aren’t allowed to leave people on their own in here anymore.”

Bokuto just gives him a nod, the backroom hasn’t changed much, there’s the rundown couch and bean bag chairs that surround the TV. Nobody’s there but the TV is playing something. The blonde kid looks disgusted by it.

“I didn’t put that on, in case you were wondering. Ito did. I think that stuff is sick.” Bokuto isn’t going to say anything, he hadn’t even looked at the screen, but the blonde kid’s reaction makes him curious. It is sick. It’s not one of the usual gory murder ones that’s playing, it’s a kid. He looks to be about 11 maybe 12 and has fluffy brown hair and big brown eyes. He’s crying and saying the same thing over and over again, something like “Aka-chan, Aka-chan. Too much. Too much.” Bokuto thinks he might throw up, he’s about to look away and just block it out, but the camera pans down suddenly, to a smaller kid with black hair. A big hand reaches from off-screen and pulls the kid around to face the camera. His eyes are big and green and he’s crying too. Bokuto realizes then that it’s Akaashi.

All of a sudden he’s out in the back alleyway, hunched over and dry-heaving, the contents of his stomach already on the ground. He looks up to see the blonde kid watching him from the back door.

“Sorry,” The kid says, “I should have just shut it off.”

“It’s fine,” Bokuto hears himself saying, “It’s just that I know that kid. It scared me.”

“That brown-haired kid? A lot of people know him. He’s like 17 now, he makes a ton of tapes. I don’t watch 'em’ though they’re too gross.” 

“No,” Bokuto says sitting back and wiping his mouth, “The other kid.”

“Oh.” The blonde kid says, “I have to go back in.” Bokuto doesn’t say anything. He flops backward, breathing heavily. He doesn’t care that he’s lying on the cold, hard pavement. Bokuto just stares upwards and watches as the sky gets darker.

Akaashi fixes his makeup in the bathroom mirror. He doesn’t want to look at himself, mascara is pooling under his eyes and his lip gloss is all smudged. His neck is covered in fresh marks from the quickie he just had in the bathroom stall. He makes himself pretty again, puts on more mascara and more lipgloss. His hand itches for a razor, but he knows he can’t. No bleeding on the job, his boss doesn’t care about the scars or cuts, as long as he isn’t doing it while he’s working.

Akaashi’s already had to get on his knees for the boss more than once and he’d rather not do it anymore. He gathers the small amount of cash the last guy who fucked him left and readjusts his stupid slutty costume. The door swings open and the two ash-blonde kids stumble in. The one with the beauty mark holds onto the one with the cross necklace, he’s crying. Akaashi slips out unnoticed.

He gets a free drink from the bartender, who’s one of the only people here who’s not a creep. He’s supposed to climb right back onto table 10 and do his usual routine, then he’ll be available again for lap dances and quickies until his shift is over. The boy who’s supposed to be working the table with him, the weird one with red hair and permanently tired eyes, is nowhere to be found. Akaashi does another quick scan and sees the redhead in a corner in a heated conversation with a huge, olive-skinned young guy. The redhead starts to cry. Akaashi rolls his eyes, it looks like he’ll be on his own tonight. He crosses the dancefloor and pulls himself onto the table. Akaashi stands slowly, arching his back and swaying his hips. He closes his eyes, shuts off his mind and lets his body take control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: implied/referenced CSA, child pornography, drug use, underage sex work


	5. Tell my baby to pretend (that every word I say is what I really meant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a little shorter, it's pretty sad, warnings are at the bottom.

Bokuto doesn’t show up early. Akaashi’s shift ends and he finds himself outside, bag slung carelessly over his shoulder, body huddled into his oversized jacket. He doesn’t know why he’s waiting for Bokuto, if it was anyone else he’d probably just count his losses and find some old guy to take him home for the night. But, as much as he hates to admit it, there’s something about Bokuto, something that makes Akaashi feel safe. He almost makes Akaashi feel alive again, almost, but not quite.

Bokuto doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Akaashi. His brain hurts and he doesn’t want to think anymore. He wants to get high out of his mind and curl up in bed. He’s surprised to see Akaashi is waiting for him outside of the club. He doesn’t make any move or call out to him, though. Akaashi notices him then and smiles brightly, waving and calling, “Bokuto-san!”. 

Bokuto smiles back weakly. He feels Akaashi press against him and a cold hand slips into his. He must be talking, cause Akaashi’s saying something back, but he can’t hear himself. They get back to the squat. Akaashi says something about taking a shower. Bokuto points him towards the bathroom. He goes to his room, it’s not really his, but he’s done his best to stake his claim. It's pitch black. He collapses onto the bed and buries his face in the pillows, he thinks he might be crying, but he isn’t sure. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but it doesn’t feel like a very long time. The lights flicker on and Akaashi is there, dropping his bag and his clothes into a pile on the ground. His black hair is all wet and curly and he’s only got a small, ratty towel slung around his hips. Bokuto sits up and lets his legs hang off the end of the mattress. Akaashi gives him a smile, it sort of seems fake.

“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san, I didn’t wake you up did I?” Akaashi says this all low and flirty. Bokuto can’t help but wonder if it’s practiced if it’s something he was taught. Bokuto shakes his head.

“No, uh, I wasn’t sleeping.” He feels like an idiot, but he doesn’t have anything else to say. Akaashi moves closer, eyelashes fluttering.

“That’s good, Bokuto-san. I wouldn’t want you to be tired. Besides,” Akaashi moves slowly, swaying his hips, “I never did give you that dance.” Bokuto doesn’t know what to say, his brain is saying no, but his body is telling him yes. He feels a cold hand brush against his face and he realizes Akaashi is straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, ass pressed into his lap. Up close he can see that Akaashi’s skin is still damp and glistening, flushed a little red from the hot water. But, he also sees the hickies on his neck and the fingerprints on his hips marks that he knows he didn’t leave. He doesn’t have time to say anything, cause then Akaashi is kissing his lips, cold hands fisting into his hair. 

“A-k-kaashi,” is all he can manage when Akaashi lets him up for air. But then Akaashi is lifting up Bokuto’s shirt and kissing down his chest, all the way down to his crotch. Then Akaashi is unzipping Bokuto’s jeans and it’s clear what his intent is. Bokuto remembers the tape and it makes him sick, he pushes Akaashi away, maybe too roughly ‘cause Akaashi stumbles backward and nearly lands on his ass. Akaashi’s face clouds with confusion, but then he just laughs.

“You wanna do it rough tonight, Bokuto-san?” He leans back and looks up at Bokuto with hooded eyes, “I’ll be a good boy.” And he’s back on his knees, one hand coming up to brace on Bokuto’s thigh, the other going back to the zipper.

“No,” Bokuto says, finally finding his voice, as he grabs a hold of Akaashi’s hand, “Akaashi, you don’t have to do this”. Akaashi pulls his hand away, long, pale fingers right back where they started. 

“I want to do it,” His voice is sickeningly sweet, as he slowly pulls the zipper down, “I want to make Bokuto-san feel good.”

“Stop,” Bokuto says. It comes out harsher than he meant, and he grips Akaashi’s wrist again, tighter. “Stop acting like this. Stop acting like-”

“A slut?” Akaashi’s voice is cold, as he cuts Bokuto off and his green eyes are dark and flashing. But, it passes and the syrupy voice is back, as he rubs up against Bokuto’s legs and nearly purrs, “But, that’s what I am, Bokuto-san. A good little slut, just for you.” And Akaashi is pulling himself up, resting his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders, leaning in to kiss him again.

“I said to stop it!” Bokuto stands up and Akaashi falls backward, really falls. He lets out a whimper, and he sounds like a kicked puppy, looks like one too with his big eyes. He scrambles back, his towel falling away from his body, showing more bruises in the shape of fingertips. He’s breathing heavily, pale chest rising and falling quickly. Bokuto realizes Akaashi’s scared. He presses a hand over his mouth and slumps back down on the mattress.

“I’m sorry, ‘Kaashi. I didn’t mean to yell. Oh god, I’m-”

“Why don’t you want me?” His voice is quiet, but it’s harsh enough to make Bokuto stop talking, “Why, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto leans forward, reaching down to help Akaashi, but Akaashi slaps his hand away, “Tell me.”

“That’s not it. I just didn’t want you to think that you had to.”

“Why would I think that?” Akaashi glares back and Bokuto has to look away. “I thought we both wanted this. Why would you think that?”

“Cause I know, Akaashi! I know, okay?” It slips out and Bokuto knows he shouldn’t have said it. 

Akaashi glares even more, “Know what?”

“Nothing. Nevermind, I didn’t mean anything.” Bokuto squeezes his eyes shut and clutches the sheets, praying Akaashi will just forget it. He doesn’t.

“No. You did. Now tell me.” Akaashi is standing now, legs shaking, he’s completely naked, but he doesn’t seem to care, as he trips forward, voice shaking, “Fucking tell me.”

Bokuto is getting frustrated. His eyes fly open and so does his mouth, “I saw a tape. At the fucking porn store. I saw a tape.”

Akaashi doesn’t say anything at first, just starts to gather up his clothes and get dressed. Bokuto stands, but he doesn’t know what to do.

“What are you doing?” That’s all he can think to say, as he watches Akaashi stuff clothes into his bag. 

“I’m going, Bokuto-san. I’m a dirty, disgusting whore. You basically said it yourself. I lied to you before and tried to be all innocent, but the cat’s out of the bag I guess. I’m sorry I let you touch me and get all dirty. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Bokuto can’t comprehend what he’s saying, but he flies forward, blocking the door. 

“No!” He pleads “Akaashi, don’t go. That’s not what I meant. Please just listen to me.” 

Akaashi just stares back. Bokuto can tell he’s trying to act calm, but Akaashi’s hands are trembling. All of a sudden his legs seem to give away and he’s collapsing to the floor. Bokuto runs forward and catches him, just barely. Akaashi presses into him, whole body shaking now, and Bokuto guides him to the bed. He curls up into himself. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, but it’s barely audible, “I’m sorry.” 

Bokuto sits down and puts his head in his hands, “It’s not your fault. You were little. It wasn’t your fault.”

Akaashi looks up and Bokuto’s surprised to see that he’s not crying. He squints at Bokuto and whispers, “Wasn’t it?”

“No. It wasn’t. You were, what? Eleven years old? Twelve.”

“Ten,” Akaashi laughs bitterly, “I was ten. When it started.”

_ When it started? Does that mean it hasn’t stopped?  _ Bokuto is going to ask, but Akaashi beats him to it.

“Yeah, it hasn’t really stopped. But, there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m mostly too old for Uncle, but his friends still want me sometimes. And I let guys fuck me all the time at work. I’m sixteen now. Not ten. I’m old enough to fight back if I want to and I don’t so I guess I want it.” Akaashi sits up then, very abruptly and says, “What tape was it?”

“Huh?” Bokuto is caught off guard, but he answers for some reason, “You were with a kid with brown hair. Somebody off-screen made you look at the camera. I couldn’t watch it. It made me sick.”

Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto that the tape had barely even started and that it only got worse from there. He doesn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto that the tape kinda was his fault. That he and the other kid thought it’d be funny to lock Uncle out of the apartment. It wasn’t funny, not after Uncle kicked the door down and closed in on them with his fists, while they huddled together in a corner. Akaashi doesn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto that Uncle made him hold the other kid down. And then Uncle got on the bed. Akaashi was too scared to move, nobody had to hold him down. A warm, gentle hand rests on his shoulder and he presses into it.

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto is saying, “I shouldn’t have told you.”

“No,” Akaashi hears himself say, “I asked.” Then he says, “How old were you?” He doesn’t know why he says it, but he does.

“How old was I when? Oh,” Bokuto realizes, “Twelve, I think. She was my dad’s girlfriend. I think she was like twenty.”

“Did you like it?”

“I was drunk. I sucked my first cock when I was eleven though.”

“Oh?”

“It was my dad’s. He got mad at me for doing something, I think maybe talking. He said I sounded like a fag and that was the only way to shut fags up. Hey, he was half right. About me being a fag I mean.”

“I’m sorry for asking.” Bokuto doesn’t say anything back, just reaches out and gently pulls Akaashi into a hug. Akaashi doesn’t hug him back, just buries his face into Bokuto’s neck. They stay like that. It’s Bokuto who speaks first though.

“Akaashi?” It’s muffled and quiet, ‘cause Bokuto’s face is pressed into Akaashi’s hair.

“Yeah?”

“I meant what I said last night. About loving you.”

“I thought you forgot”

“I didn’t”

“Okay”

“You don’t have to say it back.”

“Okay,” That’s all Akaashi can say, for once he doesn’t want to lie.

“You don’t have to go back,” Bokuto whispers. 

“Yes, I do Bokuto-san. I always go back, just for a little while. ‘Cause I have too. Just like you always go back home to your dad. Now let's go to bed.”

Bokuto waits until Akaashi is asleep. Then he gets high and lies back down, waiting until he blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: implied/referenced CSA, implied/referenced incest, sort of hypersexuality, talk of underage sex work, a little bit of drug use, use of homophobic slurs


	6. What's the matter? I don't wanna wait so long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really short filler chapter, cause the next couple of chapters are kind of rough. warnings at the bottom-

A week passes and then another. Nothing much happens. Akaashi and Bokuto stay at the squat, they only leave if they have to. Their world revolves around the dark room with the mattress in the corner, staying up all night and sleeping all day. Akaashi goes to work sometimes and dances for money and lets people fuck him. Bokuto stays inside and gets high and then goes to pick Akaashi up. Sometimes he walks, sometimes he borrows Kuroo’s car. He went back to Triple X once ‘cause he kinda wanted to see the blonde kid again, but the usual spiky-haired kid was there and he yelled at Bokuto for trying to steal a magazine. He hasn’t been back since.

Akaashi hasn’t been by Uncle’s either, but he knows he’s going to have to soon. He’s seen Uncle hanging around outside of the club, which means he either needs money from Akaashi or something else. That means Akaashi will have to go placate him sooner or later, otherwise, Uncle will make a scene, like that one time. Akaashi almost got fired.

Bokuto will have to go back to his dad’s soon. His dad may hate him, but he gets annoyed if his personal punching bag isn’t around. Last time he showed up at the squat and almost strangled Kuroo to death. Bokuto doesn’t want a repeat of that so he might have to go back soon, either that or just wait for Kuroo to get annoyed with him enough to kick him out. That happens every so often and Kuroo usually feels really bad after. Then he lets Bokuto stay even longer and gives him even more drugs. 

Akaashi and Bokuto haven’t talked about the tapes again, they don’t really talk that much about anything anyway. Usually when Akaashi gets back from work they either fuck or just fall asleep together. Akaashi always wakes up screaming, but Bokuto never knows ‘cause he’s always dead to the world. They don’t usually leave the room, but tonight is different. There’s sort of a party going on at the squat and Akaashi isn’t working so he and Bokuto are downstairs, mixed in with the crowd. Akaashi is lying stretched out on the couch, head resting in Bokuto’s lap and they’re passing a joint between themselves. Kuroo is stretched out on the floor, him and Bokuto are deep in conversation. Akaashi doesn’t mean to interrupt, but his brain is all fuzzy and warm. He decides he has something to say.

“Bokuto-san,” He isn’t even really aware that he’s speaking. Bokuto stops talking and smiles down at Akaashi, his pupils are dilated and Akaashi thinks his must be too.

“What’s up ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto’s voice is all soft and slurred. Akaashi knows it’s ‘cause he started getting high before the party started.

“Do you ever like want to die?” Bokuto kinda laughs, when Akaashi says that. Kuroo makes a weird noise and looks up at the ceiling. 

Bokuto drops his hand onto Akaashi’s head and twirls black hair between his fingers. He thinks for a minute and then he speaks.

“No. I mean maybe I used to, but not right now,” He laughs then and smooths Akaashi’s hair back, “I kinda love life now, cause I’ve got you ‘Kaashi. And you’ve got me ‘Kaashi, so you won’t want to either. Right?” Kuroo scoffs and rolls his eyes, Bokuto pays him no mind and keeps talking, “Right ‘Kaashi? You won’t leave me. Promise?”

Akaashi speaks before he thinks, “I promise, Bokuto-san. I won’t even think about it.”  _ Liar, Liar why are you lying?  _ Bokuto can’t tell, he never can. Kuroo can though, ‘cause he’s sober and he looks pointedly at the scars on Akaashi’s thighs. Akaashi stares stonily back at him and Kuroo looks away.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kuroo says this real quiet, under his breath. Akaashi doesn’t hear it. Neither does Bokuto, who leans down and plants a kiss on Akaashi’s forehead. Akaashi pulls Bokuto down to kiss him on the lips, ignoring Kuroo’s loud sigh as he gets up to leave. 

Akaashi and Bokuto end up having sex in the dark second-floor hallway, ‘cause some other people are using their bedroom. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not spectacular and after they're finished Akaashi kind of feels like crying, not ‘cause of anything Bokuto did and it doesn’t matter anyway, cause Akaashi hasn’t cried in a long time and he won’t now. Bokuto decides to go and kick the people out of their room and Akaashi slips off to the bathroom, silver razor weighing down his pocket.

The bathroom’s empty and the lights are on. He doesn’t bother to close the door and he carves up his thighs, head spinning and breath quick. And when he’s done, his face is flushed and he looks in the mirror and watches the blood drip down.  _ I’m fine,  _ he thinks,  _ I’m fine.  _ When he turns to leave Kuroo’s standing in the hallway, back against the wall, arms crossed. 

“Thought so.” He says this flatly, but he’s smirking

“Please,” Akaashi says and he thinks he sounds pathetic, “Please, it’s not what it looks like. Don’t tell Bokuto-san. Please.”

“Relax. I won’t,” Kuroo laughs when he says this, “It’s none of my business.” He sounds like he means it, but when Akaashi gets the courage to look him in the eye, he can tell that Kuroo means the opposite. Akaashi decides then that tomorrow would be a good day to stop by Uncle’s. Maybe by the time he gets back Kuroo will have forgotten if he decides to come back. The bedroom’s dark when he gets back and Bokuto’s already asleep or passed out. Akaashi gets in bed, he doesn’t bother trying to go to sleep, ‘cause he knows he’ll be living his nightmares tomorrow, but somehow he ends up sleeping anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: self-harm/cutting, hints of co-dependency, drug use, implied/referenced CSA, implied/referenced child abuse


	7. Everybody loves you, Everybody wants you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first part of a depressing section, warnings at the bottom-  
> Enjoy I guess, or don't, it's sad

It’s 6 PM when Akaashi wakes up and he doesn’t bother to tell Bokuto, who’s still sleeping, where he’s going. He pulls on jeans and winces when they rub up against fresh scabs, t-shirt next, then his jacket, makes sure he’s got his money (though he’s set some aside under a loose floorboard). Then Akaashi swings his bag over his shoulder and slips out. He pretends that he doesn’t see Kuroo in the living room and Kuroo pretends he doesn’t notice Akaashi’s leaving.

It doesn’t take Akaashi long to get to the apartment. He repeats the same routine he had weeks before, dragging his feet, running his hand along the paint-chipped walls. Just like always, Uncle seems to sense Akaashi’s presence and opens the door before he can find his keys.

“Keiji. Long time no see.” Uncle’s there, just like always, same cold smile, same boxers, and unbuttoned shirt, “We’ve missed you.” _We?_ Akaashi suddenly becomes aware of the sounds from the kitchen, rowdy laughing, and talking.

“Oh.” Akaashi says flatly, “I didn’t know anyone else would be here.” _Otherwise, I wouldn’t have come_. He doesn’t say that though, just reaches into his pocket and pulls out the money, “Here, Uncle. I guess I’ll go.”

Uncle takes the money, thumbs through it quickly, and looks up at Akaashi incredulously, “This is it?”

Akaashi just shrugs, “It’s been slow the past two weeks. If that’s all, I’m going.” He turns to leave, but Uncle reaches out and spins him around.

“Hey, Keiji, don’t be such a downer. You came out here, you must have wanted to come in.”

“What I wanted,” Akaashi says slowly, trying to free himself from Uncle’s iron grip, “Was to come in, take a shower, get some stuff from my room, and leave again. I did not want to go to a party with a bunch of perverts.”

“It’s not a party, Keiji. Just me and Ito and a few of Ito’s friends. And there are some people your age here, well younger than you, but that doesn’t matter.” Uncle tightens his grip, pulling Akaashi closer, “Look at it this way, I did so much for you Keiji, I do so much for you, Keiji. The least you can do is come in and say hello.” Uncle says this all sweet with a smile, but Akaashi knows what the underlying message really is, _i_ f _you try to walk out that door, Keiji, I’ll beat you half to death in front of everyone._

Akaashi shudders and sighs, “Fine. But, I’m not staying for long.”

“Wonderful!” Uncle exclaims and pulls him through the doorway, slamming the door and bolting it behind them. Two kids are splayed out on the carpet watching a rerun of some cartoon on the TV. They both look up at Akaashi, with bored, dull expressions. Akaashi recognizes the freckled green-haired kid from last time. The other one has orange hair, Akaashi realizes he’s seen him hanging around the squat, usually high on something. He gives the two a nod in greeting, but they don’t acknowledge him any further. It's fine with him, ‘cause he feels bad. If he was a good person he could try to help them, he doesn’t know how he would, just knows he could try. But, he isn’t a good person, he’s a liar, and he probably will always be one. Uncle pushes him into the cramped kitchen, where five guys are playing cards, Ito included, besides him, Akaashi isn’t sure he knows anyone else. Maybe he blocked them out. 

“Keiji!” It’s Ito of course, a crooked smile spreading as he licks his thin lips, “Come, sit, have a drink.” _No,_ Akaashi wants to say, this is exactly what he didn’t want. But, Uncle’s grip on his shoulder tightens, Akaashi’s sure there’ll be a bruise, and he feels Uncle’s breath against his neck, with the gruff whisper of “go”. And so Akaashi finds himself sitting on Ito’s lap, drinking cheap beer from a red solo cup. 

Bokuto wakes up. He gets a surprise. The surprise is that it’s Kuroo, flipping through an old magazine stolen from Triple X, lying next to him, not Akaashi. 

Of course, that’s the first thing out of Bokuto’s mouth, “Where’s ‘Kaashi?” Kuroo throws the magazine down and sits up.

“Am I not good enough, Bo?” Kuroo stares at him with a serious expression. Bokuto sits up, too, ready to protest, but Kuroo’s laughing and picking the magazine back up, “I’m kidding. He left earlier, with his stuff, and didn't say where he was going. Or if he was coming back,” He raises his eyebrows at the last part and Bokuto narrows his eyes.

“Whadda you mean? Of course, he’ll come back.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, he feigns boredom and looks at the magazine. When he speaks again, his voice is dripping with sarcasm, “Of course, he’ll come back.”

“Kuroo, seriously. What the hell are you getting at?” Bokuto sits up, now fully awake. Kuroo just pretends to be invested in the magazine. Bokuto rips it away from him, nearly yelling, “Fucking talk, Kuroo, stop being such a dick.”

Kuroo laughs again, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Alright, Alright, Bo. Jesus. All I’m saying is that Akaashi seems pretty fucked up.”

“Whatever. I’m pretty fucked up too and so are you, so I don’t know-”

Kuroo holds up his hand, silencing Bokuto, “I wasn’t finished. I’m just saying it’s really only a matter of time.”

Bokuto glares daggers at Kuroo, “And what does that mean?”

“God,” Kuroo sighs, “Do I have to spell everything out for you?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says, “Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I’m just saying that I think it’s only a matter of time until he tries to, you know,” Kuroo then makes a fake gun with his hand and mimes shooting himself. Bokuto’s eyes grow wide.

“Don’t fucking say that, Kuroo! Akaashi wouldn’t do that. Why would you even think that?"

“I don’t know,” Kuroo shrugs, “You’ve seen his thighs.”

Bokuto clenches his fists, “He doesn’t do that anymore.”

Kuroo pulls back the blanket and points at a big bloodstain, “You sure?” But, Bokuto doesn’t see it. He’s got something to say to Kuroo.

“You know what I think?” 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, all slow and patronizing, “Yeah, Bo. Tell me what you think.”

“I think you're jealous. I think you’re jealous ‘cause you know it was your fucking fault that that weird pudding head died. You couldn’t fucking save him, ‘cause he was so fucked up and you just made it worse. Well, Akaashi isn’t like that. And I’m not like you. If you hadn’t made that kid come live with you, ‘cause you’re such a kind person, he’d probably be alive today. And you fucking know that.” Bokuto stops, face red, breath quick and labored. He looks at Kuroo and it’s then that he knows he fucked up.

Kuroo’s crying, silent tears streaming down, shoulders shaking. Bokuto just stares at him. It’s quiet, but not for long. Kuroo raises a shaking hand and jabs his finger at the door.

“Get out. Get the fuck out.” And Bokuto does. He leaves his pile of stuff like he always does, just grabs his jacket and gets the fuck out. He’s on the street, running to no place in particular before he realizes that he’s crying too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings (essentially the usual suspects): implied/referenced CSA, implied/referenced violence, talk of suicide attempts and cutting (it's kind of said in an insensitive way), talk of a character who has died (also insensitive)  
> \----------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> So if anyone's wondering, yes Bokuto is talking about Kenma, like I said I put a bunch of characters in (the ones in the tags), but didn't use their names. These characters will be the main focus of other stories I have planned in this AU. Kenma and Kuroo will have a story, this kind of sets the stage for it (It will take place prior to this story obviously). But, yeah thanks for reading, please leave a kudos or a comment if you can.


	8. Yeah, it's okay, 'cause I feel nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's really sad. I think, idk. warnings are at the bottom, please check them if you have triggers.

Akaashi manages to untangle himself from Ito, while the guys are in the middle of an intense round of cards. They protest, but he just mutters something about going to take a shower, he ignores it when the guy who’s closest to the door reaches out and slaps his ass. Akaashi’s just glad none of them made any comments about joining him. He makes his way through the living room. The green-haired boy’s asleep, curled up in a fetal position. The orange-haired kid is smoking a joint and he blows the smoke lazily in Akaashi’s direction. He can’t be more than 15. 

Akaashi rushes into the bathroom, legs overcome with the familiar weak feeling. He slams the door shut and leans against it. His hand fumbles for the lock, but then he remembers, there’s no lock. Obviously not. How could he forget how much Uncle used to like to watch him in the bathtub? He figures he’s safe though, the guys are distracted with their poker game and Akaashi will be quick. 

He sheds his clothes, leaves them neatly folded, and places a towel on top, easy to reach. He turns the water all the way up until it’s scalding and slips in. He’s hypervigilant at first, listening for the telltale sound of the doorknob twisting, but it doesn’t come. He cleans himself up. When he’s done with that he lets his body sink to the ground and he curls up, letting the hot water rain down on him and scorch his skin. 

He stays in longer than he means to. He shuts off the water and reaches for the towel, just as the skin on his fingers is starting to prune. His arm stretches looking for the towel or the pile of clothes, but it’s all in vain. He sits up and looks over the edge of the tub. The towel’s gone and so are his clothes. 

“Shit,” He says, “Shit”.  _ How the fuck did they get in here? I was so careful _ . He doesn’t know what the hell he’s going to do. For all, he knows they’re probably all outside waiting to jump on him like a pack of hungry wolves on a lamb. He’ll have to make a run for it, it’s a good thing his room is almost adjacent. Slowly he stands, dripping wet, and steps out, careful not to slip. He pries the door open and peeks out. It’s quiet, from what he can see the kitchen is dark and empty. The living room is still dimly lit, but there isn’t anyone there. Akaashi pushes open the door and runs to his room. The door is shut. He tries to open it. It’s locked. He shakes the handle again, but nothing happens.

“W-won’t get in.” The voice, quiet and slurred, startles Akaashi. He whirls around to find the orange-haired kid stretched out, pupils dilated. He points at the door and speaks again, though he can barely get the words out, “Uncle. G-got mad ‘cause he was sleeping. Said they had to make s-special video.”

Akaashi understands that “he” means the green-haired kid. He listens and hears muffled sobs and the sound of a palm hitting skin. He bangs on the door then. Whether it’s for his own selfish reasons or to help the kid, he doesn’t know.

“Uncle,” He bangs his fist even harder, “Open the fuck up. I need to get my fucking clothes.” He’s about to crash his fist down again when a big hand locks tight around his arm.

“Jesus, Keiji. I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. You’d think you’d have learned some manners by now, wouldn’t you?” It’s Ito. Of course, it is. Akaashi tries to pull away.

“Get the fuck off of me, Ito!” He screams this and begins to writhe. Ito pushes him hard against the door, Akaashi’s lower back collides with the door handle, “Fuck!”

“Well, it looks like he hasn’t. I guess we’ll have to teach him, won’t we boys?” 

_ Boys? Oh fuck,  _ Akaashi can feel his body go limp,  _ They’re all still here.  _ The other four guys close in. Akaashi strains against Ito’s arms even harder.

“Uncle! Open the door! Fucking help me!” He screams,  _ what a cruel twist of fate _ , he thinks, that he is begging his first torturer for help. Uncle doesn’t open the door, of course. Ito pulls Akaashi forward, and he stumbles nearly falling to the ground, but one of the guys steps in and catches him.

“Oi princess, wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, huh?” The guy pulls Akaashi in tight, hands pressing deep into the flesh of Akaashi’s hips. His chin hits the guy’s shoulder, and he can see the orange-haired kid staring. They make eye contact.

“What are you doing?” Akaashi screams at the kid, though he doesn’t think the kid can even hear him, “Call somebody! Get help!” The kid blinks. 

“Help me!” Akaashi tries again, “Somebody fucking help me!”

“Shut him up.” One guy says. Another one shoves his fingers down Akaashi’s throat. Akaashi bites down, he doesn’t know why. He knows what’ll happen.

“Fucking bitch,” the guy pulls his fingers out and backhands Akaashi. Akaashi falls to the ground.

“Let me deal with this,” he hears Ito say, then a belt unbuckling. He cries out as he feels it come down on him. His hands fly up to shield his face. More blows rain down. He writhes and screams, they gag him with a strip of t-shirt. Ito ties his hands with the belt. Akaashi squeezes his eyes shut and tries to leave his body, ‘cause he knows what’s coming next.

It must work, ‘cause the next thing Akaashi knows he’s running and he’s got his bag. He stops to breathe, bending over, and he realizes he doesn’t have a shirt on under his jacket. He’s barefoot too. His jeans are unbuttoned, clearly pulled on in a hurry, he can feel something leaking through the back and dripping down his thighs, whether its blood or cum he isn’t sure. Probably both. He’s right near the squat and he runs up the steps, pushing past the guys outside who give him weird looks. He stumbles in and drags himself through the mass of people, all stoned out of their minds. He makes it to the stairwell and then his legs give out. He collapses there and starts to pull himself on his hands and knees.

“Bokuto-san!” He tries to yell, but his voice barely comes out, they must have fucked his throat too, “Bokuto-san!” He tries again and it’s a little louder, but only a little.

“He’s not here. Oh shit,” Akaashi looks up and he sees Kuroo peering down at him, eyes wide. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Akaashi croaks out, “No, just- need- to- find, Bokuto-san,”

“Like I said he’s not here. I can bring you to his apartment though.”

“Please,” Akaashi whispers, “Please.”

“Okay,” Kuroo says and pulls Akaashi to his feet, “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” But, he tries to take a step and falls against Kuroo.

“We’ll take my car.”

“Okay,” Akaashi whispers. And he ends up in the backseat, stretched out on his stomach. 

Kuroo is watching him in the rearview mirror, “What happened?” 

“Nothing,” Akaashi mutters, “I’m fine.”

Kuroo scoffs, “You don’t look it.”

“I am”

“If you say so.”

And then they’re at the apartment building. Kuroo helps him up the stairs. The door to Bokuto’s apartment is open slightly. Kuroo pushes it open and drags Akaashi in. The whole place is turned over, tables flipped, smashed plates. Bokuto is lying on the ground flat on his back in the middle of it all. He smiles up at them when they peer down. A black eye is forming and blood trickles out of his nose. He laughs.

“Dad’s going on a bender. He’ll be gone for a few weeks.” Kuroo just shrugs. He doesn’t say anything, just leaves, closing the door firmly behind him. Bokuto sits up and frowns when he sees Akaashi, “ ‘Kaashi! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Bokuto-san,” But then he doubles over and throws up.  _ I’m fine,  _ he thinks,  _ I’m fine _ , and the world goes dark. Bokuto scrambles up to catch him. He lays Akaashi down and stumbles to the door, flinging it open and running into the hall. Kuroo’s walking away, almost at the stairs.

“Kuroo!” Bokuto doesn’t care if he wakes up the whole building, “Kuroo, you gotta fucking help me, he just blacked out!” Kuroo turns around and hurries back down the hall. 

“Fine,” He says, “I’ll help. But I’m still pissed at you.” Bokuto doesn’t say anything, just grabs Kuroo and shoves him through the door, following quickly behind. Kuroo picks Akaashi up. 

“Fuck, he’s bleeding through his jeans, Bo, run a bath. I’ve gotta get him out of these clothes and make sure his insides aren’t all torn up.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything and doesn’t move, just nods weakly. He can’t help but think that he played some part in this.  _ He went back to them. I told him he didn’t have to, but he did. Was it something I said?  _

Kuroo shoves him then and yells, “Go! Run the fucking bath. I can handle this part, I’ve done it before.”

_ Of course,  _ Bokuto thinks as he hurries to the bathroom,  _ I remember when that pudding head dragged himself in that time.  _ He hopes Akaashi will be alright. He almost thinks about praying while he waits for the bath to fill, but then thinks better of it.  _ If there is a God, why the fuck would he help us now? He’s already fucked us over too many times to count.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: implied/referenced CSA, violence, gang rape (it is not described, but events leading up to it are sort of graphic), idrk just please proceed with caution.  
> \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> yeah, sorry for this... I may or may not have cried a little bit while writing this part. Anyways, a tiny bit of fluff and comfort in the next chapter at least so... I don't know. Please leave a kudos or comment if you can. Thank you!


	9. Nobody's there, just the things in my brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short update, and like a tiny moment of fluff... warnings at the bottom

Soft sunlight comes in through the window and dances across Akaashi’s face. He wakes up from the best night of sleep he’s had in a while, then he realizes he doesn’t quite know where he is. His whole body hurts though and _Oh yeah, Ito and like a bunch of other guys,_ he can’t really remember much though. He tries to sit up, but his limbs feel frozen. Akaashi squints into the sunlight and wonders for a moment if he’s dead. He kind of hopes he is.

“Akaaaaaashi!” _Okay. So no, not dead._ He’s at Bokuto-san’s. He looks down and realizes somebody must have cleaned him up and changed him. He’s wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of boxers. Slowly he pulls himself up, letting out an audible gasp of pain.

“Bokuto-san?” His voice is all weak and whispery. The door flies open and Bokuto barrels in, smile wide, arms outstretched.

“ ‘Kaashi! I didn’t wake you up did I?” He settles himself on the bed and he looks so genuinely concerned, Akaashi could laugh. He doesn’t though, it would probably freak Bokuto out. _I know I should feel upset. But, I’m used to this. They told me it’s what I was made for. I separated my body and my soul and now I am just a body._ Of course, Akaashi won’t say any of that to Bokuto. He just gives him a weak smile and tries not to wince when he moves.

“You didn’t, Bokuto-san. I woke up on my own.”

Bokuto pauses for a second, almost like he’s sizing Akaashi up. Then he smiles and bounces a little on the bed, “Well, I made you breakfast.” He looks very proud of himself. Akaashi slowly throws back the covers and slides his legs over the bed. He tries to stand, but his legs buckle and he catches on to the nightstand. Bokuto rolls across the bed and grabs hold of Akaashi’s arm. 

“Woah, slow down. Let me help you.” Akaashi does, he presses his cold, aching body against Bokuto’s. He’s grateful for Bokuto’s warmth. The kitchen is cleaned up a little bit, the table’s upright and there’s no glass on the floor. Bokuto has set two places and there is a bowl at each. He pulls out Akaashi’s chair and Akaashi sits down, albeit gingerly. He looks down, not sure what to expect of the supposed breakfast.

The bowl looks like it was supposed to be some type of cereal, but it’s obviously been left too long and everything’s mushed together. Akaashi pokes it with his spoon and looks up at Bokuto, who’s watching him, obviously waiting for Akaashi to take the first bite.

“Uh, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi pokes the cereal again, “I think you might have let this sit for too long.”

Bokuto laughs and shakes his head, “Nope. It’s the way I always make it. I put a little sugar in it. Trust me it’s really, really good.”

“Okay,” Slowly, Akaashi raises the spoon to his mouth and takes a bite. He promptly spits it out, “Oh god, Bokuto-san. That’s terrible!”

Bokuto’s eyes grow wide in shock, “No way, ‘Kaashi! You’re just kidding right?”

Akaashi shakes his head, laughter bubbling up as he watches Bokuto lean in and take a big bite. He swallows and his eyes bug out of his head, then he’s reaching for his orange juice.

“Never mind. You’re right. That’s disgusting. I think I mixed up the sugar and salt.” 

Akaashi bursts out laughing. He can’t help himself. Through fits of giggles, he tries to speak, but he can’t. Bokuto stares at him with the same look of shock on his face. Akaashi tries his best to stop laughing, “What, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto blinks. “You’re laughing.”

Akaashi smiles and shakes his head a little bit, “Yeah, I’m laughing. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Bokuto scratches his head and looks down, a little sheepishly. “Well, Kuroo said that I should just act like everything is normal, ‘cause you kept saying you were fine, but I just wasn’t sure-”

Akaashi cuts him off, “Everything is normal, Bokuto-san. I am fine.”

“Okay,” Bokuto says this slowly as if he can’t quite decide what to think. Akaashi looks down at the bowl, he wishes he could laugh again, but the feeling is gone. He stands up, pushing back his chair.

“I’m not hungry anyway, Bokuto-san. I think I’ll lie down again. I’m still tired.”

“Oh,” is all Bokuto says. He stays frozen, eyes following Akaashi as he limps away. He hears the bedroom door close and drops his head into his hands.

Akaashi lets himself collapse onto the bed, burying his face into the pillows and gripping the sheets. He listens to the sounds coming in through the crack of the open window. Metal trash cans clatter in the alleyway and sirens sound far off in the distance. Akaashi closes his eyes and pretends he’s back in Uncle’s apartment, being passed between the five men from last night. He can’t remember it, not really, but he sort of wants to, in a weird twisted way.

It comes back in parts like it always does. Heavy breathing and whispered insults. _Slut, whore, bitch._ One of the guys behind him, another in his mouth, wrists rubbed raw from the leather around them. Ito had him last, hadn’t he? He’d taken his time, showing the guys who Akaashi really belonged to, or had that been Uncle? Akaashi isn’t sure, just remembers that at some point, Uncle was standing over him. And Akaashi had reached up, wrists still bound. 

_Did I smile?_ Akaashi wonders, _Did I ask him to help me? Or did I ask him to kill me? I wish I had. Maybe he would’ve._ Akaashi laughs at that thought. _Oh, I would be so lucky._ He laughs again, hysterically now, muffling it with the pillow. He laughs and laughs, like something’s funny. Except nothing is. Akaashi laughs because he doesn’t know how to cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: mentions of rape and flashback of rape, a tiny bit of suicidal thoughts, I think that's it, but as always be cautious  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> As always leave a kudos or comment if you can!


	10. I hurt bad (but its not enough)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update! warnings at the bottom

In the kitchen, Bokuto lights a joint and sucks the smoke down his throat. He tilts back his chair and blows smoke rings upwards. After a while, when he’s feeling all nice and relaxed, he gets up to check on Akaashi. He pushes the door open gently and peers in. Akaashi is lying on his side, turned away from the door. The joint burns against Bokuto’s fingers, he turns to go back to the kitchen.

“Bokuto-san?” There’s a rustle of sheets and Akaashi’s green eyes are peeking out. 

Bokuto turns back and steps into the room, “Yeah, Kaashi?”  
Akaashi pushes up into a sitting position and brushes his hair back, “Have you been getting high?”

“Just a little weed.”

“Oh,” Akaashi says and giggles a little bit, “Can I have some?”

This catches Bokuto off guard, and he trips over his words, “Uh, I don’t know, ‘Kaashi. I don’t know if that's a good idea for you.”

“How do you know if it’s a good idea for you?” Akaashi is sitting up straight now, eyes piercing beneath the fringe of dark lashes. Bokuto doesn’t say anything, just comes all the way into the bedroom and hands the joint to Akaashi.

Akaashi takes a drag, coughing as the smoke clogs up his lungs. He pats the bed and Bokuto sits. They finish off the joint in silence. They don’t stop there. Bokuto digs out as many joints as he can find and gets some bottles of beer from the fridge.

When they’re totally gone, Bokuto leans over and kisses Akaashi. Akaashi makes a sound of pleasure and tilts his neck, letting Bokuto kiss and suck on the pale skin. He closes his eyes, letting Bokuto’s movements rock him back and forth. He feels one of Bokuto’s hands rub against his thigh and rough fingertips gently trace his scars. 

Bokuto’s fingers brush over a fresh scab. Akaashi yelps, Bokuto pulls back. Akaashi looks down at the cut which is bleeding again and giggles.

“Oops, Bokuto-san. Look what you did.” Akaashi stands up then, letting the thin trail of blood trickle down. He’s out the bedroom door before Bokuto speaks. He’s higher than Akaashi is and his voice is slurred like it always is when he gets stoned.

“Where’re you going’ ‘Kaashi?”

“The bathroom,” Akaashi yells. There’s a minute of quiet and then a muffled, “Where do you keep your razor?”

“Huh? Oh, in the cabinet,” Bokuto rubs his eyes, the high is really hitting him hard. He flops backward, watching as the warm afternoon sun dances across the ceiling. He closes his eyes and when he opens them again, Akaashi is leaning over and straddling him, a weird maniacal smile on his face. Bokuto feels something warm drip down onto his leg. When he looks down he sees that Akaashi’s thighs are all scratched up with new cuts, and he’s bleeding like crazy, all over Bokuto and the bed.

“F-fuck, ‘Kaashi. W-why?” Bokuto struggles to sit up and Akaashi climbs off of him. Standing on the floor, bathed in the golden light, the blood drips down, slow and sticky.

Akaashi’s legs are shaking and his hands are clenched at his sides, the silver razor glinting in his right hand’s grasp. He smiles at Bokuto and steps closer, “Isn’t it pretty, Bokuto-san? It doesn’t hurt me at all.” As if to prove his point, he presses the razor into his thigh and drags it down. 

Bokuto’s body is paralyzed and his eyes just grow wider as Akaashi straddles him again, his cold body pressed up against Bokuto’s warm one. Akaashi presses a gentle kiss to Bokuto’s jaw. His body gives out then and he collapses onto him, burying his face in the crook of Bokuto’s neck. Akaashi’s whole body shakes with what seem to be silent sobs. But, he’s laughing, laughing so hard, and he doesn’t remember where he is anymore.

The high seems to last for ages. When they finally come down, both boys crash. They lie completely burnt out in a pool of sweat, what could be either cum or piss, probably vomit, and Akaashi’s blood. They’re passed out for hours.

Bokuto wakes up to Kuroo opening a window. He tries to sit up, but the combination of Akaashi’s weight on him and the pain that splits through his head, push him back down. 

“K-kuroo,” Bokuto’s throat is dry and itchy. He barely gets the words out, “What’re you doing here?”

Kuroo opens the other window and spins around, “You called the squat like 5 times. You sounded totally gone. And hey, look! I was right.”

Bokuto looks down at the sheets, ripped and stained with blood and other substances. His eyes then drop to Akaashi’s sleeping form and gently rolls him over. Stretched out on his back, Bokuto can see all of the fresh cuts that mar Akaashi’s thighs and all the blood that’s pooled around him.

“Fuck, Kuroo. That’s a lot of blood.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says and comes over to the bed, “I checked though. None of them are too deep. So he’s alive for now.”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, keeping his voice low and warning, “Don’t start that again.”

“Fine, Bo. But God, are you naive.”

“I don’t even know what that word means, Kuroo.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes at that and then bends down and picks Akaashi up, bridal style. Akaashi’s head lolls back, but he doesn’t wake up. 

“Where are you going?” Bokuto asks, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, his knees buckling and nearly giving out when his feet hit the floor. 

“I’m putting him on the couch,” Kuroo says as he moves towards the door, “I’m gonna put some bandages on him. Then I’ll make you something to eat and you can help me clean up the bedroom.”

“Okay,” Bokuto says. He sits back down and rests his head against his knees.  _ I’m such a fuck up,  _ he thinks,  _ I love Akaashi, but I can’t even take care of him.  _

It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to come back. He helps Bokuto up and leads him to the bathroom.

“Take a shower, Bo. When you get out, I’ll have some tea for you.”

Bokuto waits until the water is scalding and then he strips down and gets in. He likes the way the water stings his skin as he scrubs himself raw. After, he slides down, tilts his head back against the wall, and waits until the water runs cold. When Bokuto gets out and goes back to his bedroom, the bed is stripped and there’s a fresh set of clothes laid out for Bokuto. Bokuto gets dressed and shuffles quietly into the kitchen. Kuroo’s leaning against the counter, one cup of tea in his hand, another sitting on the table.

Bokuto sits down gently, cautiously eyeing Akaashi’s sleeping form.

Kuroo follows Bokuto’s gaze and shakes his head, “You don’t have to worry about him. He was awake when I got here. I found him throwing up in the bathroom. Cleaned him up and gave him a sleeping pill, he’ll be out for a while.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says and gingerly sips his tea, “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to come over, you know.”

“Actually, I did,” Kuroo says, pulling out a chair and sitting down. He holds up 3 fingers, “I have 3 reasons actually. The first is that you sounded like you were gonna die. The second is I’ve seen your father hanging around the block and I thought I should tell you. And the third is about money actually.”

“Money?” Bokuto says and he panics for a second because what if Kuroo is thinking of charging him for all the drugs he’s ever taken?

Kuroo just laughs at the shocked look on Bokuto’s face, “Yeah, money. You probably don’t remember, but I bet a lot of money on you for that street fighting thing you roped yourself into a few weeks ago. And you better win at least one fight, otherwise, I’m gonna be pretty pissed.”

_ Oh shit.  _ Bokuto had forgotten. He’d challenged the spiky-haired kid at Triple X, who was apparently the reigning champion.  _ Well, I’m fucked.  _ He runs a hand through his hair, “Fuck, when is that again?”

“Midnight, tonight. Outside of Triple X. A ton of the guys from the squat are going. Some of them are competing too. It’s like 7 p.m now, so I think we should get a few hours of sleep.” Kuroo stands then, watching as Bokuto finishes his tea and gets up too. Kuroo heads in the direction of the bedroom, but Bokuto hangs back, eyes drifting over to the couch.

“What about ‘Kaashi?”

“Leave him,” Kuroo says and keeps walking, “No since disturbing him until it’s time to go.”

Bokuto follows Kuroo, shutting the door behind them. Both of them collapse onto the bed. Bokuto realizes that he has yet to apologize to Kuroo.

“Kuroo?”

“Yeah, Bo?” Kuroo’s voice is muffled like he’s already half asleep.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. Me too. You two can come back to the squat if you want.”

“Thanks.”

“You should come tomorrow, Bo. I was serious about seeing your dad. You never know when he might come back.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto mumbles, but he’s already drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: underage drug use, self-harm/cutting ( i think that's it)  
> \-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Thanks for reading my newest update, please leave a kudos or comment if you can :)


	11. Yeah, your son he likes my body (he's gonna want to break your teeth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It kind of took me a while to finish this chapter. I guess I've been putting it off, cause I'm getting closer to the ending which is really depressing, so... anyway warnings at the bottom and, uh, enjoy?

Akaashi wakes up in the dark, on the couch. Slowly he sits up, rubbing his eyes and wincing at the pain in his head. He doesn’t remember much. There are bandages on his thighs and he wonders who put them there. The soft glow of the digital clock above the stove paints the apartment a pale, fluorescent green. It’s 11:15 pm.

Akaashi thinks about getting up, but his body is sluggish and he slumps back down. He tries to remember what he and Bokuto did, but it won’t come back. He shrugs and thinks  _ nothing new, just another part of my life I’ve forgotten. I don’t care.  _ That’s a lie though, of course, it is.

There’s a sound then, at the door. A key turns in the lock and the door slowly opens. Akaashi spins around.

“B-bokuto-san?” A large silhouette bars the doorway. Akaashi’s quiet whisper is met with an ominous laugh.

“I guess you could call me that,” the figure moves into the room. When it moves into the green light, Akaashi realizes it’s Bokuto’s father. He doesn’t know what to do, just clutches tightly to the couch cushion as Bokuto’s dad closes in on him. A hand grips his chin and forces him to look up. Akaashi is met with amber eyes, that would be familiar if they weren’t so cold and crazed looking.

“Huh,” Bokuto’s dad scoffs, and pulls Akaashi towards him, “So you’re the little bitch boy Koutaro’s been fucking with.”

Akaashi pulls away, glaring, “Yeah. I guess I am.” He cringes immediately after, flinching away on instinct. This instinct is not enough to save him though and he’s suddenly pulled up off his feet when Bokuto’s dad wraps a hand around his throat. Akaashi kicks a little bit and whimpers when he starts to choke.  _ Bokuto-san, please wake up now. Please come save me.  _ He’s released all of a sudden and Akaashi can’t stop as he tumbles back off the couch, coughing and clutching at his neck.

Bokuto’s dad towers over Akaashi and looks down at him, “That’s what I thought,” and he laughs all chilling and cruel, “You try to act all tough, huh? But you’re really just a weak little slut.” He kicks Akaashi then, and Akaashi curls in on him.

He raises a hand to protect his face and stutters, “S-sir, please I-” Akaashi is cut off by another sharp kick and he tries to crawl away. A hand catches around his ankle and drags him back.

“Oi, princess. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt now would you?”

_ Wait. Shit.  _ He’s heard that before. Not long ago or anything, the other night.  _ He was there. He was one of the guys with Ito.  _ Akaashi looks up then and spits out, “You?”

Bokuto’s dad kneels down, so he’s level with Akaashi. He laughs again, and pulls Akaashi’s hair, “Yeah. Me. I fucked you, you little faggot. You tried to act all brave, yelling, and swearing, but we got you. All of us did. You just laid there and took it like the whore you are.”

_ Fuck,  _ Akaashi thinks and he tries to calm himself down,  _ how the hell am I gonna get out of this?  _ Another little voice whispers,  _ like you always do, Keiji.  _ He pushes himself up until he’s kneeling. Kneeling and looking up at Bokuto’s dad with his hooded green eyes. He trails a hand up the man’s leg, his pale fingers traveling gracefully to the zipper. He starts to drag it down, but a hand grips his wrist.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Akaashi laughs. A tiny, flirty laugh. “I’m gonna suck your cock, sir. I’m gonna do it like the whore I am.” The hand lets go and undoes the zipper. Another hand comes down and grips Akaashi’s hair. Akaashi closes his eyes, opens his mouth wide, and tries not to think too much as Bokuto’s dad shoves the length of his cock down Akaashi’s throat. Akaashi chokes and his eyes start to burn. The grip in his hair tightens and begins to move his head at a brutal pace.

Akaashi opens his throat as best he can and tries to keep his teeth out of the way. He wants to be in control, he needs to be in control, but Bokuto’s dad won’t let him and Akaashi knows he should have just tried to run or call for help. He can’t now. In fact, the last thing he wants is for Bokuto to wake up now and his head is filled with silent pleas.  _ Please, Bokuto-San don’t wake up. Don’t come looking for me. Please don’t find me like this. I don’t want you to see me like this. _

The grip on his head loosens and the thrusts begin to falter.  _ Oh god, please. Please say he’s almost done.  _ Akaashi waits, waits for the familiar bitter liquid to fill his throat. It doesn’t. Instead, his mouth is empty all of a sudden and the hands are traveling down his body. The grip on his hair tightens again and shoves him face down, so his cheek is pressed against the cold floor and his hips are up in the air. He can feel his boxers being pulled down.  _ It’s happening again,  _ he realizes,  _ it’s about to happen again.  _ There’s a noise then, a door opening. Footsteps coming down the hallway. 

The lights flicker on and suddenly Akaashi is falling forward, as the hands are ripped off of him. He scrambles to the corner and turns to face his savior. It’s Kuroo, standing over Bokuto’s dad who’s on the ground now, nose and mouth bleeding from Kuroo’s fist. There’s a click and Kuroo produces a switchblade from behind his back. It’s long and sharp and glinting. 

“Get up,” Kuroo grunts and Akaashi jumps forward, but then he realizes it’s not directed towards him.

“Get up,” Kuroo says again and kicks Bokuto’s dad sharply, “And get out.”

“You can’t throw me out of my own fucking house.”

“Yeah, I can. And I’m gonna,” Kuroo says waving his blade, threateningly, “If you don’t leave, I’ll slit your throat. And I’ll get away with it.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would. Now get the fuck out.” Akaashi holds his breath, sure that it’s not going to work. That somehow Kuroo will be the one to leave and Bokuto’s dad will get back to raping him. But to his surprise that’s not what happens.

Bokuto’s dad does leave and Kuroo follows him, making sure he’s actually gone. He locks the door again and puts a chair under it and he doesn’t look at Akaashi, just walks back towards the bedroom.

“Thank you,” Akaashi finds himself saying, though he can barely get the words out. Kuroo stops and turns slowly to look at him. 

“Sure.” It seems like he’s going to leave, but then maybe thinks better of it, ‘cause he walks back, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen, “Uh, are you, um, okay?” 

Akaashi opens his mouth, ready to tell the usual lie. But, his throat is raw and the words don’t come. Instead, he coughs and chokes, hands wrapping around his sore throat. “I’m fine.” 

Kuroo sort of laughs and shakes his head, “I’ll make you some tea. Why don’t you come sit at the table?” 

“Okay,” Akaashi mumbles. He gets up slowly, pulling Bokuto’s sweatshirt tighter around him. Kuroo has dimmed the lights in the kitchen and the clock's green glow fills the room again. He sits down and rests his chin on his hand, watching silently as Kuroo moves easily around the kitchen, boiling the water and steeping the tea. 

Kuroo comes over and sets a cup in front of him. Then he sits down too. He watches Akaashi almost analytically, eyes following him as he takes a sip of the tea. Then Kuroo tilts back in his chair a little bit, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

Akaashi gulps and looks down at his lap, “Probably not. It was stupid. It was my fault.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“No. It really was.”

“Yeah right, that guy’s an asshole. Me an’ Bo have been waiting for him to like fall down the stairs when he’s drunk or something.”

“Do you think he’ll come back tonight?” Akaashi sounds more scared than he would like.

“Nah, he’s an asshole, but he’s also a coward, he’s probably at some bar getting drunk.”

“Oh,” and then after a period of uncomfortable silence, “He was one of the guys from the other night.”

“From the other-” Kuroo cuts himself off, realizing what Akaashi’s saying, “Oh fuck, but I thought he was here, fucking up Bo.”

“I mean I was passed out for a while so he had time to come back. So yeah, he fucked me then and he was gonna do it again.”

“Shit,” Kuroo says and rubs his temples, “Shit.”

“Can you please not tell Bokuto-san? I don’t know what he’d say.”

“I won’t. But, I think you should.”

“Sure,” Akaashi mutters, pushing back his chair and standing, “Thanks for the tea.”

“Where are you going?”

Akaashi doesn’t turn around, “Bathroom.”

“You won’t find any razors.”

Akaashi turns then, eyes narrowed, “Who says that’s what I was gonna do?”

Kuroo returns his glare with a smirk, “I figured you out a while ago. You and I both know that’s what you were planning.”

“Just ‘cause you hide the razors doesn’t mean I won’t find a way. I’m not gonna stop. I don’t even think I could if I wanted to.”

“I know.” And then Kuroo stands up and walks past Akaashi, “I’m gonna wake Bo up.”

Akaashi stays silent and he sticks his tongue out at Kuroo’s back.  _ Yeah right, I’ll quit cutting when Bokuto stops getting high. Which is probably gonna be never. So there.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings: talk of self-harm/cutting, dubious consent between an underage person and an adult, turns into attempted rape, mentions of past rape, threats of violence with a knife  
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Okay, so that's my newest update. Next chapter: Basically a back-alley fist fighting contest, Kuroo kind of breaks his promise to Akaashi in an attempt to get Bokuto fired up... I will try to update soon


	12. Too many uppers, too many downers (I had a problem, I’m over it now)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm back! Sorry, this update took forever, I'd recommend reading the chapter just before this to like remind yourself, I guess. Anyhow, I plan on updating more regularly again, now that I'm done with my writer's block. Surprisingly there aren't many warnings for this chapter, just a tiny bit of drug use, extremely brief mention of pornography.

Bokuto knows he’s fucked as soon as he opens his eyes. His head is pounding, though he’s kinda gotten used to that now. Kuroo is standing over him and saying something, but Bokuto’s vision is all blurry and his ears aren’t working. He practically falls out of bed, landing on his knees.   
“Fuck!” And then he throws up, almost all over Kuroo’s feet. 

“Shit!” Kuroo yells and Bokuto can hear him now, loud and clear. Too loud.

“Ugh, loud,” Bokuto grumbles, and his hands fly over his ears. Kuroo just looks down at him, face pinched in annoyance. Bokuto can guess what he’s thinking, ‘cause he’s thinking the same thing.  _ How the hell am I supposed to fight and win?  _ It’s not a big deal, not really, some back alley fistfight thing that happens every few months. Just a bunch of stupid teens who gather around to bet on each other like dogs, the only weapon allowed being your fists. Other than that there’s no rules.

Kuroo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie of something, “Fine, but I’ll only give you a little bit. I don’t want you to o.d or anything I’ve already had to deal with Akaashi and your-” He cuts himself off abruptly, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Bokuto, who for once ignores the drugs being offered to him.

“Is something wrong, Kuroo?”

“What?” Kuroo looks away, pushing the baggie closer to Bokuto, “No.”

“It seemed like you were about to say something.” Bokuto eyes flame with a strange intensity. 

“It’s nothing, or I guess it’s something,” Kuroo shifts a bit and looks away, “I’ll tell you later, ‘cause you’re in a weird mood right now and it’ll just set you off.”

This only adds to Bokuto’s curiosity and he struggles to stand grabbing at Kuroo, “Wha-”

Kuroo just cuts him off, shoving the baggie into his hand, “Do you want it or not?”

Bokuto lets out an angry sigh and grabs it. It’s cocaine, which is sort of a luxury, ‘cause Kuroo rarely ever includes it in his usual handouts. 

“Just a little bit, Bo. To get you going. I don’t want you to get killed by that brutish kid you challenged.”

Normally, Bokuto would laugh, but the chance of that happening doesn’t seem too far fetched right now.

Kuroo leaves as Bokuto brings the baggie over to the table, pours out a little powder, and sweeps it into two neat white lines. Slowly, he leans down, holding one nostril shut, snorting the coke up the other one. 

It’ll kick in soon, at least he hopes so, and then it’ll give him some extra strength, some extra energy. Bokuto changes into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. The cocaine is kinda starting to get to him, but it’s not working like usual.

_ There’s no way I’m gonna win,  _ he thinks,  _ but I can at least get a few hits in. _

When he steps out of the room, Kuroo’s right outside, leaning against the wall. 

“Come on, Bo. Akaashi’s in the kitchen.”

Akaashi is in the kitchen, he’s sitting at the table, slumped over, head resting on his arms. He springs up when Bokuto flicks him gently. His eyes are tired and sort of empty, but he gives Bokuto a weak smile and stands up. He looks really pretty, Bokuto thinks, just standing there in a worn-out pair of jeans and a baggy, ripped up band tee. 

“You look so hot, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto pulls him in tight and kisses his forehead. Akaashi doesn’t say anything, just squirms his way out of Bokuto’s grip and grabs his jacket off the couch, pulling it on.

“What’s the matter?” Bokuto asks, his voice going up, sounding all stupid and childlike. Akaashi stays silent, shrugging, and lingering by the door. 

Kuroo shakes his head, “Forget it. Let’s go.”

“I’m fine,” Akaashi whispers to Bokuto, as the three of them leave the apartment, “Don’t worry.”

In the car, it’s silent. Bokuto sits in the passenger seat. The cocaine is making him feel weird, not like usual, he bounces his leg up and down erratically. Kuroo just stares straight ahead, keeping his eyes on the road. Akaashi sits in the back, head resting against the window. The air is heavy, it’s nearly midnight. The moon is hidden behind a cloud and it bathes the city in a strange, gray light. 

Maybe it’s the combination of the cocaine, the recent drug binge, and the lack of sleep, no that’s definitely what it is. Bokuto can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen. 

The feeling starts to fade by the time they’ve parked. There’s a pretty good crowd gathering in the alley beside Triple X. Not any more than usual, it’s a pretty normal thing, a tradition for the teenagers of block 23. Just a bunch of idiots with energy and steam to burn off, who fight, while their friends bet on them like dogs.

Bokuto usually does pretty well, or he used to. Kuroo always refuses to participate, he’s too scared, though he’ll never admit that. Bokuto hasn’t ever had to fight that spiky-haired kid though and he probably wouldn’t have to, if he hadn’t gotten fucked up on coke at that party a few months back and challenged the guy. 

_ I’m fucked, but whatever.  _ He looks for Akaashi, who is hanging back, walking slowly and scuffing his shoes. Somethings up with him, Bokuto can tell, but he isn’t in any place to figure out much more.

The two kids who run the betting system have set up a table. Bokuto knows them, one of them, the one with the shaved head, usually stays at the squat, and the other kid, short with a little blonde forelock, hangs around too.

The short kid jumps up excitedly and yells something to Akaashi. Bokuto watches, confused, as Akaashi gives the kid a weak smile and a small wave. 

Akaashi shrugs when Bokuto looks at him questioningly, “He’s a dancer at the club, I kind of know him.”

Bokuto nods and lets his eyes drift up towards the sky, whistling. Kuroo is at the betting table, talking to the skinhead. He comes over and nudges Bokuto.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Fine,” Bokuto says, kicking the loose gravel, “Once I get into the swing of it, I’ll be better.”

“Okay. Well, get ready,” Kuroo says, “You’re up against that guy, so, uh- good luck.” Said guy is leaning against the wall and he’s pretty big. His arms are crossed across his broad chest, olive skin taut against rippling muscles. His hair is dark and has the same olive tint as his skin.

“Eh,” Bokuto shrugs, “I’ll be fine, he doesn’t look like anything special.” He’s lying, the guy is pretty intimidating. 

“He’s left-handed or something, so watch out for that. And some guys were saying he might be Yakuza.”

That part makes Bokuto laugh, “Come on. If he’s involved with them, why would he be here?”

Kuroo stares back, completely serious, “I don’t know, but I’ve heard that they’re moving into this area, a lot of the clubs and stuff do business with them. Just be careful, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” The guys who are competing are all gathering together getting ready to go, so Bokuto turns, craning his neck, searching for Akaashi, he sees him and calls out, “ ‘Kaashi! Come give me a kiss for good luck!”

Akaashi hears Bokuto call to him, but he doesn’t go over. His eyes are darting around, he’s uncomfortable, ready for his fight or flight to kick in. It’s ‘cause they’re in the alley behind Triple X and Akaashi knows who works there. Ito does. And the last thing Akaashi wants is to see him again. So here he is, scanning the crowd. He sees the red-haired monster kid, leaning against a wall. He also sees the pretty kid, the older one with fluffy brown hair who used to be in the pornos with him.  _ I just want to get the fuck out of here,  _ Akaashi thinks. But when Bokuto calls him again, Akaashi goes over and kisses Bokuto, slow and passionate.

Somebody yells something and Bokuto pulls away, jogging to the center of a clearing in the crowd. The other guy is already there, flexing and stretching. Bokuto bounces back and forth on the balls of his feet. Somebody whistles and waves a flag, signaling the fight to start. Bokuto throws the first punch. Akaashi shuts his eyes and tries to make himself disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on updating again soon, I've also started on some of the other works I have planned for this AU, so that's exciting. Anyhow, thanks for reading, leave a kudos and comment if you can!


	13. You'll see my knuckles start to bleed (I wanna stop, just one more swing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, I'm back. I think this chapter is kind of bad, but whatever. I'm sorry that it's taken me forever to update, but I basically have the next chapter done so that'll be up soon. Anyhow, trigger warnings at the bottom.

The sound of a fist whooshing past Bokuto’s ear makes him jump back and grabs his attention, which was about to start drifting. Kuroo yells something from the sidelines and Bokuto throws another punch. This time his fist connects, satisfyingly hard, in the guy’s stomach. 

The guy stumbles back, but it seems like his muscles absorb the hit and he recovers quickly, swinging his fist and catching Bokuto in the jaw.  _ Shit.  _ But, he manages to bounce back. The coke is finally in its full effect and he lashes out with a new burst of energy, it’s a blind, flailing strike and it misses its mark. The guy he’s fighting grabs his wrist, twisting Bokuto’s arm and throwing him to the ground.

His vision blurs when his head hits the ground. He tries to sit up, hands clawing desperately, as his elbows scrape the pavement. The guy looms over him, fisting his hand tight into Bokuto’s shirt. Bokuto kicks his legs, trying to keep himself from being lifted completely off the ground. 

Crack. A fist connects with Bokuto’s cheek, effectively knocking him back. He doesn’t have time to recover and the guy keeps hitting him.

Blood floods his mouth and pours out of his nose.  _ Up, I need to get up.  _ If he doesn’t, he’s gonna lose, or the guy’s gonna fucking kill him. 

“Fight back, you fucking idiot,” it’s Kuroo somewhere on the sidelines. Bokuto kind of laughs, halfheartedly reaching up and scratching at the guy’s face. The guy doesn’t stop and Bokuto begins to scratch wildly at the guy’s throat trying to get a hold, anything to get him off. But he won’t let up, just keeps punching Bokuto. 

He wants to give up, ‘cause he doesn’t really give a fuck. But Akaashi’s watching, at least he’s pretty sure that he is. And that’s important. Bokuto doesn’t want Akaashi to think he’s weak. 

It doesn’t matter, ‘cause Akaashi’s not really paying attention. He’s walked to the edge of the crowd, his mind flitting back and forth between making a run for it. He hasn’t seen Ito, but that doesn’t mean anything, he’s probably hiding, lying in wait.

“There’s no way he’s gonna win.”

Akaashi startles, flinching away before giving his attention to the unfamiliar voice. It belongs to a blonde teenager who’s pretty tall, taller than Akaashi is anyway.

“Sorry,” Akaashi says, “What?”

“I said there’s no way he’s gonna win,” The kid sort of shrugs and pushes the glasses he’s wearing up the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah,” Akaashi scoffs, “I didn’t think Bokuto-san would do very good.”

“Bokuto, huh? You guys are friends.” It’s not phrased as a question, but Akaashi just shrugs.

“Sort of.” When he glances up, the blonde kid is studying him.

“Do you hang around the store sometimes?” The kid motions to the backdoor of Triple X, 

The question kind of catches Akaashi off guard, and he freezes up for a moment, “Here? No,” he scoffs a bit, “Not ever.”

“Huh,” the blonde shrugs and looks away for a second, “Weird. I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

“Well,” Akaashi says slowly, though he’s not actually thinking, “You’ve probably seen my videos or something. But I was younger than so maybe not.”

The kid’s silent blush and awkward shift tells Akaashi that he’s hit the nail on the head, “My boss puts some really disgusting stuff on sometimes. It makes me sick. I hate him.”

“Yeah,” Akaashi mumbles, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Don’t be. You had to live it,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head, squinting at Akaashi, “Or are living it, I don’t know.”

Akaashi looks away for a second, back to the fight, Bokuto’s straddling the guy now, but it seems like he’s about to be pinned again. He turns back to the blonde and gives a weak smile, “I’m not making a career out of it. I bet you recognize a lot of these guys.”

“Yeah,” the kid laughs, “For some reason, every guy thinks that this is the best place to hang out. Beats me, I fucking hate-”

“Hey! Four eyes!” the voice, gruff and sort of loud, cuts off the blonde and makes Akaashi freeze up.  _ Ito.  _

“What?” The kid yells, glaring as Ito strolls over. 

“You’re supposed to be working.”

“Whatever,” but the kid sighs in resignation and heads toward the back door.

Akaashi uses this moment to try and slip away. It doesn’t work.

“I see you, Keiji. Don’t you walk away from me.”

Akaashi stops, slowly turning around as Ito’s hand circles around his wrist, gripping tight enough to bruise. 

“Stop,” Akaashi whispers, trying to pull away, “I’m trying to watch the fight.”

“Oh right,” Ito says and pulls him in close, “Because that’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

“No.” Akaashi shakes his head desperately, “he’s just a friend.”

“You really are a little slut, do you kiss all your friends like that?” Ito’s lips brush against Akaashi’s neck, and his teeth nip at the pale skin.

Akaashi scrunches up his shoulders, trying to wiggle out of Ito’s grasp, “Okay! Yes, I’m seeing him. A-and if he sees you d-doing this, he’ll kill you.”

“Yeah,” Ito murmurs, “He looks like he’s gonna be the one getting killed, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. How about I fuck you right here against the wall for everyone to see?”

Akaashi opens his mouth, desperate, ready to scream, but nobody’s looking at him, they’re all circled around Bokuto and the other guy, cheering and yelling. 

“No,” Akaashi says slowly, leaning into Ito’s touch rather than away, “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

And so Akaashi lets Ito drag him up the steps and into Triple X. The blonde kid is sitting at the register with his back to them and headphones on, so he doesn’t notice as Ito leads Akaashi into the back room, locking the door. 

Akaashi wants. He wants a lot of things. He wants to get out. He wants to cry. He wants to run away and hide someplace and cut into his skin until he feels numb again. 

But Akaashi knows. He knows a lot of things. So he laughs, a pretty sweet laugh, and looks Ito in the eye, “So, how do you want to do this?”

A slap to the face knocks him to the ground. He doesn’t move, not when Ito kicks him in the side and hits him again. He doesn’t even flinch.

_ Wham.  _ Bokuto gets slammed to the ground again. His mind races with anticipation and fear,  _ this is it, any minute now, and I’ll be out cold. Any minute now and I’ll have lost.  _ He squeezes his eyes shut tight, bracing himself for the punch.

It never comes. Instead, a sobbing scream echoes through the air. The crowd goes silent, as the man above Bokuto freezes. Bokuto doesn’t move, doesn’t lift his head to see what the interruption is.

Instead, he waits for a moment, and then with renewed energy, he starts to move. Bokuto frees his right hand and curls it tight into a fist. 

_ Crack.  _ He punches the guy hard in the face. The guy rears back and Bokuto pushes him. He crashes down to the blacktop, while Bokuto jumps to his feet. People start yelling again. He thinks he can hear Kuroo cheering. The guy doesn’t get up.

There’s a weird-looking redhead, standing in the circle too, by the looks of it he's the person behind the scream. He’s sobbing, hands clasped together, looking at the guy on the ground.

For a split second, it seems like the redhead is about to run forward, but then someone from the crowd reaches in and drags him back.

“Alright!’ Another kid from the squat, this one with a blonde mohawk, runs into the center, “Looks like we have a winner!” 

Bokuto doubles over and spits blood onto the pavement. The mohawk kid grabs his arm and raises it in the air. Someone else helps the other guy up. 

“Good job, Bo,” Kuroo is next to him now, kind of holding Bokuto up.

“Yeah, I just got lucky,” his whole body aches and he sort of crouches down, curling in on himself, “Where’s Akaashi?”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, “Probably around somewhere. Let's get you some water and a towel. He’ll probably come find us.”

In the backroom, Akaashi bleeds on the floor. Ito stands above him, lighting a cigarette.

He looks down at Akaashi and blows smoke into his face, “Come on, Keiji. Get undressed.”

Akaashi coughs, slowly pushing himself up. With trembling hands, he slowly pulls his t-shirt over his head and moves to his jeans. The fight must be over by now. Is Bokuto looking for him? Akaashi isn’t sure if that would be a good thing.  _ I’m right here, Bokuto-san. I’m right here. But I don’t think I want you to find me like this.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Minor violence/fistfight, mentions of child pornography, implied/ referenced rape/non-con elements  
> \----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> Okay, so I'll be updating soon because basically this whole story is just me dragging stuff out over multiple chapters...also like I do put characters in and don't say their names eventually that'll make sense cause I have stories planned for those characters in this AU. 
> 
> Anyhow leave a kudos and comment if you want!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, that's the first chapter, I plan on updating again tomorrow. It only gets sadder from here so.... but, anyway thank you for reading the first chapter. Anyway please leave kudos and comments. They make me happy and motivate me.


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